t-X::.':: 


.i'.\,  '. 


'.:'  ''.-'    ''■':  ■■{■  'i^' 


'     ■■;■       ■V' 


%:m<\: 


''(.>HW%r 


^OsSiHtSi 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT    LOS  ANGELES 


^^^^,-^z-,*    .y3^^^'-*|>'^^  ^.^^ . 


HYPATIA: 


OK, 


NEW   FOES   WITH   AN    OLD    FACE. 


VOL.    I 


HYPATIA: 


OR, 


NEW    FOES   WITH    AN    OLD    FACE. 


BY 

CHARLES    KINGSLEY,  Jun. 

SECTOR  OP  EVERSLBT, 
AUTHOR  OF  "ALTON  LOCKE,"  "  YEAST,"  ETC.,  ETC 

IN     TWO     VOLUMES. 

VOL.    I. 


>        «       3         1     •     •  '. 


',      •'      J   '»       >»"      ^  '   ' 


<  t 

•  >  > 


BOSTON: 

CROSBY,    NICHOLS,    AND    COMPANY, 

111  Washington   Street. 

1854. 


n: 


C  A  M  li  E  1  I)  G  E  : 
METCALF  AND    COMPANV,   PRINTERS  TO  TUB   UNIVERSITT. 


nr  1 

DEDICATION 


CNl 


un 


TO  MY  FATHER  AND  MY  MOTHER. 

My  dear  Parents, — 

When  you  shall  have  read  this  book,  and  considered 

fti  the  view  of  human  relationships  which  is  set  forth  in  it, 

you  will  be  at  no  loss  to  discover  why  I  have  dedicated 

it  to  you,  as  one  paltry   witness  of  a  union  and  of  a 

debt  which,  though  they  may  seem  to  have  begun  with 

birth,  and  to  have  grown  with  your  most  loving  educa- 

W  tion,  yet  cannot  die  with  death  :  but  are  spiritual,  inde- 

^feasible,  eternal  in  the  heavens  with  that  God  from 

^,  whom  every  fatherhood  in  heaven  and  earth  is  named. 

"2  C.  K. 

c 

6 


PREFACE 


A  PiCTRRE  of  life  in  the  fifth  century  must  needs 
contain  much  which  will  be  painful  to  any  reader,  and 
which  the  young  and  innocent  will  do  well  to  leave 
altogether  unread.  It  has  to  represent  a  very  hideous, 
though  a  very  great  age  ;  one  of  those  critical  and 
cardinal  eras  in  the  history  of  the  human  race,  in 
which  virtues  and  vices  manifest  themselves  side  by 
side  —  even,  at  times,  in  the  same  person  —  with  the 
most  startling  openness  and  power.  One  who  writes 
of  such  an  era  labors  under  a  troublesome  disadvan- 
tage. He  dare  not  tell  how  evil  people  were  ;  he  will 
not  be  believed  if  he  tells  how  good  they  were.  In 
the  present  case  that  disadvantage  is  doubled  ;  for, 
while  the  sins  of  the  Church,  however  heinous,  were 
still  such  as  admit  of  being  expressed  in  words,  the 
sins  of  the  heathen  world  against  which  she  fought 
were  utterly  indescribable  ;  and  the  Christian  apolo- 
gist is  thus  compelled,  for  the  sake  of  decency,  to 
state  the  Church's  case  far  more  weakly  than  the  facts 
deserve. 


via  PREFACE. 

Not,  be  it  ever  remembered,  that  the  shghtcst  suspi- 
cion of  immorality  attaches  either  to  the  heroine  of  this 
book,  or  to  the  leading  philosophers  of  her  school,  for 
several  centuries.  Howsoever  base  and  profligate  their 
disciples,  or  the  Manichees,  may  have  been,  the  great 
Neo-Platonists  were,  as  Manes  himself  was,  persons  of 
the  most  rigid  and  ascetic  virtue. 

For  a  time  had  arrived,  in  which  no  teacher  who 
did  not  put  forth  the  most  lofty  pretensions  to  right- 
eousness could  expect  a  hearing.  That  Divine  Word, 
Who  is  "  The  Light  Who  lighteth  eveiy  man  which 
cometh  into  the  world,"  had  awakened  in  the  heart 
of  mankind  a  moral  craving  never  before  felt  in  any 
strength,  except  by  a  few  isolated  philosophers  or 
prophets.  The  Spirit  had  been  poured  out  on  all 
flesh  ;  and  from  one  end  of  the  empire  to  the  other, 
from  the  slave  in  the  mill  to  the  emperor  on  his 
throne,  all  hearts  were  either  hungering  and  thirsting 
after  righteousness,  or  learning  to  do  homage  to  those 
who  did  so.  And  He  who  excited  the  craving  was 
also  fui'nishing  that  which  would  satisfy  it ;  and  was 
teaching  mankind,  by  a  long  and  painful  education,  to 
distinguish  the  truth  from  its  innumerable  counterfeits, 
and  to  find,  for  the  first  time  in  the  world's  life,  a 
good  news  not  merely  for  the  select  few,  but  for  all 
mankind  without  respect  of  rank  or  race. 

For  somewhat  more  than  four  hundred  years,  the 
Roman  Empire  and   the  Christian  Church,  born   into 


PREFACE.  IX 


the  world  almost  at  the  same  moment,  had   been  de- 
veloping themselves    side   by  side   as  two   great   rival 
powers,  in   deadly  struggle   for  the    possession  of  the 
human  race.     The  weapons  of  the  Empire  had  been 
not   merely   an   overwhelming   physical    force,  and    a 
ruthless   lust  of  aggressive   conquest,  but,  even   more 
powerful  still,  an  unequalled    genius  for  organization, 
and    an   uniform   system   of  external    law  and    order. 
This  was  generally  a  real  boon  to  conquered  nations, 
because    it   substituted  a  fixed   and    regular   spoliation 
for  the  fortuitous  and  arbitrary  miseries  of  savage  war- 
fare :    but   it  arrayed,  meanwhile,  on   the  side  of  the 
empire   the  wealthier   citizens   of  every  province,   by 
allowing  them  their  share  in  the  plunder  of  the  labor- 
ing masses   below  them.     These,  in   the  country  dis- 
tricts, were  utterly  enslaved,  while,  in  the  cities,  their 
nominal    freedom    was   of    little   use   to   masses   kept 
from  starvation   by  the  alms  of  the  government,  and 
drugged  into  brutish  good  humor  by  a  vast  system  of 
public  spectacles,  in  which  the  realms  of  nature  and 
of  art  were   ransacked    to    glut   the  wonder,  lust,  and 
ferocity  of  a  degraded  populace. 

Against  this  vast  organization  the  Church  had  been 
fighting  for  now  four  hundred  years,  armed  only  with 
its  own  mighty  and  all-embracing  message,  and  with 
the  manifestation  of  a  spirit  of  purity  and  virtue,  of 
love  and  self-sacrifice,  which  had  proved  itself  migh- 
tier to  melt  and  weld  together  the  hearts  of  men  than 


X  PREFACE. 

all  the  force  and  terror,  all  the  mechanical  organiza- 
tion, all  the  sensual  baits,  with  which  the  empire  had 
been  contending  against  that  Gospel  in  which  it  had 
recognized,  instinctively  and  at  first  sight,  its  inter- 
necine foe. 

And  now  the  Church  had  conquered.  The  weak 
things  of  this  world  had  confounded  the  strong.  In 
spite  of  the  devilish  cruelties  of  persecutors  ;  in  spite 
of  the  contaminating  atmosphere  of  sin  which  sur- 
rounded her ;  in  spite  of  having  to  form  herself,  not 
out  of  a  race  of  pure  and  separate  creatures,  but  by 
a  most  literal  "  new  birth  "  out  of  those  very  fallen 
masses  who  insulted  and  persecuted  her  ;  in  spite  of 
having  to  endure  within  herself  continual  outbursts  of 
the  evil  passions  in  which  her  members  had  once  in- 
dulged without  check  ;  in  spite  of  a  thousand  coun- 
terfeits which  sprung  up  around  her  and  within  her, 
claiming  to  be  part  of  her,  and  alluring  men  to  them- 
selves by  that  very  exclusiveness  and  party  arrogance 
which  disproved  their  claim  ;  in  spite  of  all,  she  had 
conquered.  The  very  emperors  had  arrayed  them- 
selves on  her  side.  Julian's  last  attempt  to  restore 
paganism  by  imperial  influence  had  only  proved  that 
the  old  faith  had  lost  all  hold  upon  the  hearts  of  the 
masses  ;  and  at  his  death  the  great  tide-wave  of  new 
opinion  rolled  on  unchecked,  and  the  rulers  of  earth 
were  fain  to  swim  with  the  stream  ;  to  accept,  in 
words,  at   least,  the  Church's   laws  as  theirs  ;    to  ac- 


PREFACE.  XI 

knowledge  a  King  of  kings  to  whom  even  they  owed 
homage  and  obedience  ;  and  to  call  their  own  slaves 
their  "  poorer  brethren,"  and  often,  too,  their  "  spir- 
itual superiors." 

But  if  the  emperors  had  become  Christian,  the  Em- 
pire had  not.  Here  and  there  an  abuse  was  lopped 
off;  or  an  edict  was  passed  for  the  visitation  of  pris- 
ons and  for  the  welfare  of  prisoners  ;  or  a  Theodo- 
sius  was  recalled  to  justice  and  humanity  for  a  while 
by  the  stern  rebukes  of  an  Ambrose.  But  the  Em- 
pire was  still  the  same  ;  still  a  great  tyranny,  enslav- 
ing the  masses,  crushing  national  life,  fattening  itself 
and  its  officials  on  a  system  of  world-wide  robbery  ; 
and  while  it  was  paramount,  there  could  be  no  hope 
for  the  human  race.  Nay,  there  were  even  those 
among  the  Christians  who  saw,  like  Dante  afterwards, 
in  the  "  fatal  gift  of  Constantine,"  and  the  truce  be- 
tween the  Church  and  the  Empire,  fresh  and  more 
deadly  danger.  Was  not  the  Empire  trying  to  extend 
over  the  Church  itself  that  upas  shadow  with  which  it 
had  withered  up  every  other  form  of  human  exist- 
ence ;  to  make  her,  too,  its  stipendiary  slave-official, 
to  be  pampered  when  obedient,  and  scourged  when- 
ever she  dare  assert  a  free  will  of  her  own,  a  law 
beyond  that  of  her  tyrants  ;  to  throw  on  her,  by  a 
refined  hypocrisy,  the  care  and  support  of  the  masses 
on  whose  lifeblood  it  was  feeding  ?  So  thought  many 
then,  and,  as  I  fancy,  not  unwisely. 


XU  PREFACE. 

But  if  the  social  condition  of  the  civiHzed  world 
was  anomalous  at  the  beginning  of  the  fifth  century, 
its  spiritual  state  was  still  more  so.  The  universal 
fusion  of  races,  languages,  and  customs,  which  had 
gone  on  for  four  centuries  under  the  Roman  rule,  had 
produced  a  corresponding  fusion  of  creeds,  an  univer- 
sal fermentation  of  human  thought  and  faith.  All 
honest  belief  in  the  old  local  superstitions  of  paganism 
had  been  long  dying  out  before  the  more  palpable 
and  material  idolatry  of  Emperor- worship  ;  and  the 
gods  of  the  nations,  unable  to  deliver  those  who  had 
trusted  in  them,  became,  one  by  one,  the  vassals  of 
the  "  Divus  Csesar,"  neglected  by  the  philosophic  rich, 
and  only  worshipped  by  the  lower  classes,  where  the 
old  rites  still  pandered  to  their  grosser  appetites,  or 
subserved  the  wealth  and  importance  of  some  partic- 
ular locality. 

In  the  mean  while,  the  minds  of  men,  cut  adrift 
from  their  ancient  moorings,  wandered  wildly  over 
pathless  seas  of  speculative  doubt,  and  especially  in 
the  more  metaphysical  and  contemplative  East,  at- 
tempted to  solve  for  themselves  the  questions  of  man's 
relation  to  the  unseen  by  those  thousand  schisms,  her- 
esies, and  theosophies  (it  is  a  disgrace  to  the  word  phi- 
losophy to  call  them  by  it),  on  the  records  of  which 
the  student  now  gazes  bewildered,  unable  alike  to 
count  or  to  explain  their  fantasies. 

Yet  even  these,  like  every  outburst  of  free  human 


PREFACE.  XIU 

thought,  had  their  use  and  their  fruit.  They  brought 
before  the  minds  of  churchmen  a  thousand  new  ques- 
tions which  must  be  solved,  unless  the  Church  was  to 
relinquish  for  ever  her  claims  as  the  great  teacher  and 
satisfier  of  the  human  soul.  To  study  these  bubbles, 
as  they  formed  and  burst  on  every  wave  of  human  life ; 
to  feel,  too  often  by  sad  experience,  as  Augustine  knew, 
the  charm  of  their  allurements ;  to  eliminate  the  truths 
at  which  they  aimed  from  the  falsehood  which  they 
offered  as  its  substitute  ;  to  exhibit  the  Catholic  Church 
as  possessing,  in  the  great  facts  which  she  proclaimed, 
full  satisfaction,  even  for  the  most  subtle  metaphysical 
cravings  of  a  diseased  age  ;  —  that  was  the  work  of  the 
time  ;  and  men  were  sent  to  do  it,  and  aided  in  their 
labor  by  the  very  causes  which  had  produced  the  intel- 
lectual revolution.  The  general  intermixture  of  ideas, 
creeds,  and  races,  even  the  mere  physical  facilities  for 
intercourse  between  different  parts  of  the  Empire, 
helped  to  give  the  great  Christian  fathers  of  the  fourth 
and  fifth  centuries  a  breadth  of  observation,  a  depth  of 
thought,  a  large-hearted  and  large-minded^patience  and 
tolerance,  such  as,  we  may  say  boldly,  the  Church  has 
since  beheld  but  rarely,  and  the  world  never ;  at  least, 
if  we  are  to  judge  those  great  men  by  what  they  had, 
and  not  by  what  they  had  not,  and  to  believe,  as  we 
are  bound,  that  had  they  lived  now,  and  not  then,  they 
would  have  towered  as  far  above  the  heads  of  this  gen- 
eration as  they  did  above  the  heads  of  their  own.     And 


XIV  PREFACE. 

thus  an  age,  which,  to  the  shallow  insight  of  a  sneerer 
like  Gibbon,  seems  only  a  rotting  and  aimless  chaos  of 
sensualit)'^  and  anarchy,  fanaticism  and  hypocrisy,  pro- 
duced an  Athanase  and  a  Jerome,  a  Chrysostom  and  an 
Augustine  ;  absorbed  into  the  sphere  of  Christianity  all 
which  was  most  valuable  in  the  philosophies  of  Greece 
and  Egypt,  and  in  the  social  organization  of  Rome,  as 
an  heirloom  for  nations  yet  unborn  ;  and  laid  in  foreign 
lands,  by  unconscious  agents,  the  foundations  of  all 
European  thought  and  ethics. 

But  the  health  of  a  Church  depends  not  merely  on 
the  creed  which  it  professes,  not  even  on  the  wisdom 
and  holiness  of  a  few  great  ecclesiastics,  but  on  the 
faith  and  virtue  of  its  individual  members.  The  7nens 
Sana  must  have  a  corpus  sanum  to  inhabit.  And  even 
for  the  Western  Church,  the  lofty  future  which  was  in 
store  for  it  would  have  been  impossible,  without  some 
infusion  of  new  and  healthier  blood  into  the  veins  of  a 
world  drained  and  tainted  by  the  influence  of  Rome. 

And  the  new  blood,  at  the  era  of  this  story,  was  at 
hand.  The  great  tide  of  those  Gothic  nations,  of  which 
the  Norwegian  and  the  German  are  the  purest  remain- 
ing types,  though  every  nation  of  Europe,  from  Gibral- 
tar to  St.  Petersburg,  owes  to  them  the  most  precious 
elements  of  strength,  was  sweeping  onward,  wave  over 
wave,  in  a  steady  southwestern  current,  across  the 
whole  Roman  territory,  and  only  stopping  and  recoiling 
when    it    reached    the    shores   of  the   Mediterranean. 


PREFACE.  XV 

Those  wild  tribes  were  bringing  with  them  into  the 
maeic  circle  of  the  Western  Church's  influence  the 
very  nnaterials  which  she  required  for  the  building  up 
of  a  future  Christendom,  and  which  she  could  find  as 
little  in  the  Western  Empire  as  in  the  Eastern  ;  com- 
parative purity  of  morals  ;  sacred  respect  for  woman, 
for  family  life,  for  law,  equal  justice,  individual  free- 
dom, and,  above  all,  for  honesty  in  word  and  deed  ; 
bodies  untainted  by  hereditary  effeminacy,  hearts  ear- 
nest though  genial,  and  blest  with  a  strange  willingness 
to  learn,  even  from  those  whom  they  despised  ;  a  brain 
equal  to  that  of  the  Roman  in  practical  power,  and  not 
too  far  behind  that  of  the  Eastern  in  imaginative  and 
speculative  acuteness. 

And  their  strength  was  felt  at  once.  Their  vanguard, 
confined  with  difficulty  for  three  centuries  beyond  the 
Eastern  Alps,  at  the  expense  of  sanguinary  wars,  had 
been  adopted,  wherever  it  was  practicable,  into  the  ser- 
vice of  the  Empire  ;  and  the  heart's  core  of  the  Roman 
legions  was  composed  of  Gothic  officers  and  soldiers. 
But  now  the  main  body  had  arrived.  Tribe  after  tribe 
was  crowding  down  to  the  Alps,  and  trampling  upon 
each  other  on  the  frontiers  of  the  Empire.  The  Huns, 
singly  their  inferiors,  pressed  them  from  behind  with 
the  irresistible  weight  of  numbers  ;  Italy,  with  her  rich 
cities  and  fertile  lowlands,  beckoned  them  on  to  plun- 
der ;  as  auxiliaries,  they  had  learnt  their  own  strength 
and  Roman  weakness  ;  a  casus  belli  was  soon  found. 


XVI  PREFACE. 

....  How  iniquitous  was  the  conduct  of  the  sons  of 
Theodosius,  in  refusing  the  usual  bounty,  by  which  the 
Gotlis  were  bribed  not  to  attack  tiie  Empire  !  The 
whole  pent-up  deluge  burst  over  the  plains  of  Italy,  and 
the  Western  Empire  became  from  that  day  forth  a 
dying  idiot,  while  the  new  invaders  divided  Europe 
among  themselves.  The  fifteen  years  before  the  time 
of  this  tale  had  decided  the  fate  of  Greece  ;  the  last 
four  that  of  Rome  itself.  The  countless  treasures  which 
five  centuries  of  rapine  had  accumulated  round  the 
Capitol  had  become  the  prey  of  men  clothed  in  sheep- 
skins and  horse-hide  ;  and  the  sister  of  an  emperor  had 
found  her  beauty,  virtue,  and  pride  of  race  worthily 
matched  by  those  of  the  hard-handed  Northern  hero 
who  led  her  away  from  Italy  as  his  captive  and  his 
bride,  to  found  new  kingdoms  in  South  France  and 
Spain,  and  to  drive  the  newly  arrived  Vandals  across 
the  Straits  of  Gibraltar  into  the  then  blooming  coast- 
land  of  Northern  Africa.  Everywhere  the  mangled 
limbs  of  the  Old  World  were  seething  in  the  Medea's 
caldron,  to  come  forth  whole,  and  young,  and  strong. 
The  Longbeards,  noblest  of  their  race,  had  found  a 
temporary  resting-place  upon  the  Austrian  frontier,  after 
long  southward  wanderings  from  the  Swedish  moun- 
tains, soon  to  be  dispossessed  again  by  the  advancing 
Huns,  and,  crossing  the  Alps,  to  give  their  name  for 
ever  to  the  plains  of  Lombardy.  A  few  more  tumultu- 
ous years,  and  the  Franks  would  find  themselves  lords 


PREFACE.  XVU 

of  the  Lower  Rhine-land  ;  and  before  the  hairs  of  Hy- 
patia's  scholars  had  grown  gray,  the  mythic  Hengist 
and  Horsa  would  have  landed  on  the  shores  of  Kent, 
and  an  English  nation  have  begun  its  world-wide 
life. 

But  some  great  Providence  forbade  to  our  race,  tri- 
umphant in  eveiy  other  quarter,  a  footing  beyond  the 
Mediterranean,  or  even  in  Constantinople,  which  to  this 
day  preserves  in  Europe  the  faith  and  manners  of  Asia. 
The  Eastern  World  seemed  barred,  by  some  stern 
doom,  from  the  only  influence  which  could  have  regen- 
erated it.  Every  attempt  of  the  Gothic  races  to  estab- 
lish themselves  beyond  the  sea,  whether  in  the  form  of 
an  organized  kingdom,  as  did  the  Vandals  in  Africa  ; 
or  of  a  mere  band  of  brigands,  as  did  the  Goths  in  Asia 
Minor,  under  Gainas ;  or  of  a  pretorian  guard,  as  did 
the  Varangians  of  the  Middle  Age  ;  or  as  religious  in- 
vaders, as  did  the  Crusaders,  ended  only  in  the  corrup- 
tion and  disappearance  of  the  colonists.  That  extraor- 
dinary reform  in  morals,  which,  according  to  Salvian 
and  his  contemporaries,  the  Vandal  conquerors  worked 
in  North  Africa,  availed  them  nothing  ;  they  lost  more 
than  they  gave.  Climate,  bad  example,  and  the  luxury 
of  power  degraded  them  in  one  century  into  a  race  of 
helpless  and  debauched  slaveholders,  doomed  to  utter 
extermination  before  the  semi-Gothic  armies  of  Belisa- 
rius  ;  and  with  them  vanished  the  last  chance  that  the 
Gothic  races  would  exercise  on  the  Eastern  World  the 
VOL.   I.  2 


XVlll  PREFACE. 

same  stern  yet  wholesome  discipline  under  which  the 
Western  had  been  restored  to  life. 

The  Egyptian  and  Syrian  Churches,  therefore,  were 
destined  to  labor  not  for  themselves,  but  for  us.  The 
signs  of  disease  and  decrepitude  were  already  but  too 
manifest  in  them.  That  very  peculiar  turn  of  the 
Greeco-Eastern  mind,  which  made  them  the  great 
thinkers  of  the  then  world,  had  the  effect  of  drawing 
them  away  from  practice  to  speculation  ;  and  the  races 
of  Egypt  and  Syria  were  effeminate,  over-civilized,  ex- 
hausted by  centuries  during  which  no  infusion  of  fresh 
blood  had  come  to  renew  the  stock.  Morbid,  self- 
conscious,  physically  indolent,  incapable  then  as  now 
of  personal  or  political  freedom,  they  afforded  material 
out  of  which  fanatics  might  easily  be  made,  but  not  citi- 
zens of  the  kingdom  of  God.  The  very  ideas  of  family 
and  national  life  —  those  two  divine  roots  of  the  Church, 
severed  from  which  she  is  certain  to  wither  away  into 
that  most  godless  and  most  cruel  of  spectres,  a  religious 
world  —  had  perished  in  the  East  from  the  evil  influ- 
ence of  the  universal  practice  of  slaveholding,  as  well 
as  from  the  degradation  of  that  Jewish  nation  which  had 
been  for  ages  the  great  witness  for  those  ideas  ;  and  all 
classes,  like  their  forefather  Adam,  —  like,  indeed, 
"  the  old  Adam  "  in  every  man  and  in  every  age, — 
were  shifting  the  blame  of  sin  from  their  own  con- 
sciences to  human  relationships  and  duties,  —  and  there- 
in, to  the  God  who  had  appointed  them  ;  and  saying  as 


PREFACE.  XIX 

of  old,  "  The  woman  wlwm  thou  gavest  to  he  jvith  me, 
she  gave  me  of  the  tree,  and  I  did  eat."  The  passion- 
ate Eastern  character,  like  all  weak  ones,  found  total 
abstinence  easier  than  temperance,  religious  thought 
more  pleasant  than  godly  action  ;  and  a  monastic  world 
grew  up  all  over  the  East,  of  such  vastness  that  in 
Egypt  it  was  said  to  rival  in  numbers  the  lay  popula- 
tion, producing,  with  an  enormous  decrease  in  the  ac- 
tual amount  of  moral  evil,  an  equally  great  enervation 
and  decrease  of  the  population.  Such  a  people  could 
offer  no  resistance  to  the  steadily  increasing  tyranny  of 
the  Eastern  Empire.  In  vain  did  such  men  as  Chry- 
sostom  and  Basil  oppose  their  personal  influence  to  the 
hideous  intrigues  and  villanies  of  the  Byzantine  court ; 
the  ever-downward  career  of  Eastern  Christianity  went 
on  unchecked  for  two  more  miserable  centuries,  side 
by  side  with  the  upward  development  of  the  Western 
Church  ;  and,  while  the  successors  of  the  great  Saint 
Gregory  were  converting  and  civilizing  a  new-born 
Europe,  the  churches  of  the  East  were  vanishing  before 
Mohammedan  invaders,  strong  by  living  trust  in  that 
living  God,  whom  the  Christians,  while  they  hated  and 
persecuted  each  other  for  arguments  about  Him,  were 
denying  and  blaspheming  in  every  action  of  their  lives. 
But  at  the  period  whereof  this  stoiy  treats,  the  Grseco- 
Eastern  mind  was  still  in  the  middle  of  its  great  work. 
That  wonderful  metaphysic  subtlety,  Avhich  in  phrases 
and  definitions  too  often  unmeaning  to  our  grosser  in- 


XX  PREFACE. 

tellect  saw  the  symbols  of  the  most  important  spiritual 
reahties,  and  felt  that  on  the  distinction  between  homo- 
ousios  and  homoiousious  mio-ht  hang  the  solution  of  the 
whole  problem  of  humanity,  was  set  to  battle  in  Alex- 
andria, the  ancient  stronghold  of  Greek  philosophy,  with 
the  effete  remains  of  the  very  scientific  thought  to  which 
it  owed  its  extraordinary  culture.  Monastic  isolation 
from  family  and  national  duties  especially  fitted  the 
fathers  of  that  period  for  the  task,  by  giving  them  leis- 
ure, if  nothing  else,  to  face  questions  with  a  life-long 
earnestness  impossible  to  the  more  social  and  practical 
Northern  mind.  Our  duty  is,  instead  of  sneering  at 
them  as  pedantic  dreamers,  to  thank  Heaven  that  men 
were  found,  just  at  the  time  when  they  were  wanted, 
to  do  for  us  what  we  could  never  have  done  for  our- 
selves ;  to  leave  to  us,  as  a  precious  heirloom,  bought 
most  truly  with  the  lifeblood  of  their  race,  a  metaphysic 
at  once  Christian  and  scientific,  every  attempt  to 
improve  on  which  has  hitherto  been  found  a  failure  ; 
and  to  battle  victoriously  with  that  strange  brood  of 
theoretic  monsters  begotten  by  effete  Greek  philosophy 
upon  Egyptian  symbolism,  Chaldee  astrolog)-,  Parsee 
dualism,  Brahminic  spiritualism,  —  graceful  and  gor- 
geous phantoms,  whereof  somewhat  more  will  be  said 
in  the  coming  chapters. 

I  have,  in  my  sketch  of  Hypatia  and  her  fate,  closely 
followed  authentic  history,  especially  Socrates'  account 
of  the  closing  scene,  as  given  in  Book  VII.,  §  15,  of 


PREFACE.  XXI 

his  "  Ecclesiastical  History."  I  am  inclined,  how- 
ever, for  various  historical  reasons,  to  date  her  death 
two  years  earlier  than  he  does.  The  tradition  that  she 
was  the  wife  of  Isidore,  the  philosopher,  I  reject,  with 
Gibbon,  as  a  palpable  anachronism  of  at  least  fifty 
years  (Isidore's  master,  Proclus,  not  having  been  born 
till  the  year  before  Hypatia's  death),  contradicted, 
moreover,  by  Photius,  who  says  distinctly,  after  com- 
paring Hypatia  and  Isidore,  that  Isidore  married  a 
certain  "  Domna."  No  hint,  moreover,  of  her  having 
been  married,  appears  in  any  contemporary  authors  ; 
and  the  name  of  Isidore  nowhere  occurs  among  those 
of  the  many  mutual  friends  to  whom  Synesius  sends 
messages  in  his  letters  to  Hypatia,  in  which,  if  any- 
where, we  should  find  mention  of  a  husband,  had  one 
existed.  To  Synesius's  most  charming  letters,  as  well 
as  to  those  of  Isidore,  the  good  Abbot  of  Pelusium,  I 
beg  leave  to  refer  those  readers  who  wish  for  fur- 
ther information  about  the  private  life  of  the  fifth 
century. 

I  cannot  hope  that  these  pages  will  be  altogether 
free  from  anachronisms  and  errors.  I  can  only  say 
that  I  have  labored  honestly  and  industriously  to  dis- 
cover the  truth,  even  in  its  minutest  details,  and  to 
sketch  the  age,  its  manners,  and  its  literature,  as  I 
found  them,  —  altogether  artificial,  slipshod,  effete, 
resembling  far  more  the  times  of  Louis  Quinze  than 
those  of  Sophocles  and  Plato.     And  so  I  send  forth  this 


XXU  PREFACE. 

little  sketch,  ready  to  give  my  hearty  thanks  to  any 
reviewer  who,  by  exposing  my  mistake,  shall  teach  me 
and  the  public  somewhat  more  about  the  last  struggle 
between  the  Young  Church  and  the  Old  AVorld. 


CONTENTS 


OF 


THE    FIRST    VOLUME, 


Chapter  I. 

PAGE 

THE  LAURA 25 

Chapter  II. 

THE  DYING  WORLD 41 

Chapter  III. 

THE  GOTHS 65 

Chapter  IV. 
MIRIAM 83 

Chapter  V. 

A   DAY    IN    ALEXANDRIA 101 

Chapter  VI. 

THE    NEW    DIOGENES 133 

Chapter  VII. 

THOSE    BY    WHOM    OFFENCES    COME 146 


XXIV  CONTENTS. 

Chapter  VIII. 

r 

THE    EAST    WIND 168 

Chapter  IX. 

THE    SNAPPING    OF    THE    BOW 190 

Chapter  X. 

THE    INTERVIEW 203 

Chapter  XL 

THE    LAURA   AGAIN 219 

Chapter  XII. 

THE    BOWER    OF    ACRASIA 233 

Chapter  XIII. 

THE  BOTTOM  OF  THE  ABYSS 249 

Chapter  XIV. 

THE    ROCKS    OF    THE    SIRENS 280 

Chapter  XV. 

NEPHELOCOCCUGTJIA 290 


HYPATIA; 

OE, 

NEW  FOES  WITH  AX  OLD  FACE. 


CHAPTER    I. 


THE    LAURA. 


In  the  four  hundred  and  thirteenth  year  of  the  Chris- 
tian era,  some  three  hundred  miles  above  Alexandria, 
the  young  monk  Philammon  was  sitting  on  the  edge  of 
a  low  range  of  inland  cliffs,  crested  with  drifting  sand. 
Behind  him  the  desert  sand-waste  stretched,  lifeless, 
interminable,  reflecting  its  lurid  glare  on  the  horizon 
of  the  cloudless  vault  of  blue.  At  his  feet  the  sand 
dripped  and  trickled,  in  yellow  rivulets,  from  crack  to 
crack  and  ledge  to  ledge,  or  whirled  past  him  in  tiny 
jets  of  yellow  smoke,  before  the  fitful  summer  airs. 
Here  and  there,  upon  the  face  of  the  cliffs  which  walled 
in  the  opposite  side  of  the  narrow  glen  below,  were 
cavernous  tombs,  huge  old  quarries,  with  obelisks  and 
half-cut  pillars,  standing  as  the  workmen  had  left  them 
centuries  before ;  the  sand  was  slipping  down  and  piling 
up  around  them  ;  their  heads  were  frosted  with  the  arid 
snow  ;  everywhere  was  silence,  desolation,  —  the  grave 
of  a  dead  nation,  in  a  dying  land.     And  there  he  sat 

VOL.    I.  3 


26  HYPATIA. 

musing  above  it  all,  full  of  life  and  youth  and  health 
and  beauty,  —  a  young  Apollo  of  the  desert.  His  only 
clothing  was  a  ragged  sheep-skin,  bound  with  a  leathern 
girdle.  His  long,  black  locks,  unshorn  from  childliood, 
waved  and  glistened  in  the  sun  ;  a  rich  dark  down  on 
cheek  and  chin  showed  the  spring  of  heiilthful  man- 
hood ;  his  hard  hands  and  sinewy,  sun-burnt  limbs  told 
of  labor  and  endurance  ;  his  flashing  eyes  and  beetling 
brow,  of  daring,  fancy,  passion,  thought,  which  had  no 
sphere  of  action  in  such  a  place.  What  did  his  glorious 
young  humanity  alone  among  the  tombs  ? 

So  perhaps  he,  too,  thought,  as  he  passed  his  hand 
across  his  brow,  as  if  to  sweep  away  some  gathering 
dream,  and,  sighing,  rose  and  wandered  along  the  cliffs, 
peering  downward  at  every  point  and  cranny,  in  search 
of  fuel  for  the  monastery  from  whence  he  came. 

Simple  as  was  the  material  which  he  sought,  consist- 
ing chiefly  of  the  low,  arid  desert  shrubs,  with  now  and 
then  a  fragment  of  wood  from  some  deserted  quarry  or 
ruin,  it  was  becoming  scarcer  and  scarcer  round  Abbot 
Pambo's  Laura  at  Scetis,  and  long  before  Philammon 
had  collected  his  daily  quantity,  he  had  strayed  further 
from  his  home  than  he  had  ever  been  before. 

Suddenly,  at  a  turn  of  the  glen,  he  came  upon  a  sight 
new  to  him  ....  a  temple  carven  in  the  sandstone  cliflf; 
and  in  front,  a  smooth  platform,  strewn  with  beam.s  and 
mouldering  tools,  and  here  and  there  a  skull  bleaching 
among  the  sand,  perhaps  of  some  workman  slaughtered 
at  his  labor  in  one  of  the  thousand  wars  of  old.  The 
abbot,  his  spiritual  father, —  indeed,  the  only  father 
whom  he  knew,  for  his  earliest  recollections  were  of  the 
Laura  and  the  old  man's  cell, —  had  strictly  forbidden 
him  to  enter,  even  to  approach,  any  of  those  relics  of 
ancient  idolatry :  but  a  broad  terrace-road  led  down  to . 


THE    LAURA.  27 

the  platform  from  the  table-land  above  ;   the  plentiful 

supply  of  fuel  was  too  tempting  to  be  passed  by 

He  would  go  down,  gather  a  few  sticks,  and  then  return, 
to  tell  the  abbot  of  the  treasure  which  he  had  found, 
and  consult  him  as  to  the  propriety  of  revisiting  it. 

So  down  he  went,  hardly  daring  to  raise  his  eyes  to 
the  alluring  iniquities  of  the  painted  imagery  which, 
gaudy  in  crimson  and  blue,  still  blazed  out  upon  the 
desolate  solitude,  uninjured  by  that  rainless  air.  But 
he  was  young,  and  j^outh  is  curious  ;  and  the  Devil,  at 
least  in  the  fifth  century,  busy  with  young  brains.  Now 
Philammon  believed  most  utterly  in  the  Devil,  and  night 
and  day  devoutly  prayed  to  be  delivered  from  him  ;  so 
he  crossed  himself,  and  ejaculated,  honestly  enough, 
"  Lord,  turn  away  mine  eyes,  lest  they  behold  vanity  ! " 
....  and  looked  nevertheless 

And  who  could  have  helped  looking  at  those  four 
colossal  kings,  who  sat  there  grim  and  motionless,  their 
huge  hands  laid  upon  their  knees  in  everlasting  self- 
assured  repose,  seeming  to  bear  up  the  mountain  on 
their  stately  heads  ?  A  sense  of  awe,  weakness,  all 
but  fear,  came  over  him.  He  dare  not  stoop  to  take  up 
the  wood  at  his  feet,  their  great  stern  eyes  watched  him 
so  steadily. 

Round  their  knees  and  round  their,  thrones  were 
mystic  characters  engraven,  symbol  after'^'Symbol,  line 
below  line, —  the  ancient  wisdom  of  the  Egyptians, 
wherein  Moses,  the  man  of  God,  vv^as  learned  of  old, — 
why  should  not  he  know  it  too  ?  Vv'hat  awful  secrets 
might  not  be  hidden  there  about  the  great  world,  past, 
present,  and  future,  of  which  he  knew  only  so  small  a 
^peck  ?  Those  kings  who  sat  there,  they  had  known 
it  all ;  their  sharp  lips  seemed  parting,  ready  to  speak 


28  HYPATIA. 

to  him O  that  they  would  speak  for  once  ! ,  .  .  . 

and  yet  that  grim,  sneering  smile,  that  seemed  to  look 
down  on  him  from  the  heights  of  their  power  and  wis- 
dom, with  calm  contempt  ....  him,  the  poor  youth, 
picking  up  the  leaving  and  rags  of  their  past  majesty. 
....  He  dare  look  at  them  no  more. 

So  he  looked  past  them,  into  the  temple  halls  ;  into 
a  lustrous  abyss  of  cool,  green  shade,  deepening  on 
and  inward,  pillar  after  pillar,  vista  after  vista,  into 
deepest  night.  And  dimly  through  the  gloom  he  could 
descry,  on  every  wall  and  column,  gorgeous  arabesques, 
long  lines  of  pictured  story  ;  triumphs  and  labors;  rows 
of  captives  in  foreign  and  fantastic  dresses,  leading 
strange  animals,  bearing  the  tributes  of  unknown  lands  ; 
rows  of  ladies  at  feasts,  their  heads  crowned  with  gar- 
lands, the  fragrant  lotus-flower  in  every  hand,  while 
slaves  brought  wine  and  perfumes,  and  children  sat 
upon  their  knees,  and  husbands  by  their  side ;  and 
dancing  girls,  in  transparent  robes  and  golden  girdles, 

tossed  their  tawny  limbs  wildly  among  the  throng 

What  was  the  meaning  of  it  all  ?  Why  had  it  all  been  ? 
Why  had  it  gone  on  thus,  the  great  world,  century  after 
century,  millennium  after  millennium,  eating  and  drink- 
ing, and  marrying  and  giving  in  marriage,  and  knowing 
nothing  better  ....  how  could  they  know  any  thing 
better  ?     Their  forefathers  had  lost  the  light  ages  and 

ages  before  they  were  born And  Christ  had  not 

come  for  ages  and  ages  after  they  were   dead 

How  could  they  know  ?  .  .  .  .  And  yet  they  were  all  in 
liell  ....  every  one  of  them.  Every  one  of  these  la- 
dies who  sat  there,  with  her  bushy  locks,  and  garlands, 
and  jewelled  collars,  and  lotus-flowers,  and  gauzy  dress, 
displaying  all  her  slender  limbs,  —  who,  perhaps,  when 


THE   LAITRA.  29 

she  was  alive,  smiled  so  sweetly,  and  went  so  gayly, 
and  had  children,  and  friends,  and  never  once  thought 
of  what  was  going  to  happen  to  her,  —  what  must  hap- 
pen  to   her She   was   in    hell Burning  for 

ever,  and  ever,  and  ever,  there  below  his  feet.  He 
stared  down  on  the  rocky  floors.  If  he  could  but  see 
tlirough  them  ....  and  the  eye  of  faith  could  see 
through  it  ....  he  should  behold  her  writhing  and  twist- 
ing among  the  flickering  flame,  scorched,  glowing  .... 
in  everlasting  agony,  such  as  the  thought  of  enduring 
for  a  moment  made  him  shudder.     He  had  burnt  his 

hands  once,  when  a  palm-leaf  hut  caught  fire He 

recollected  what  that  was  like She  was  enduring 

ten  thousand  times   more   than  that,  for  ever He 

should  hear  her  shrieking  in  vain  for  a  drop  of  water  to 

cool  her  tongue He   had   never  heard  a  human 

being  shriek  but  once  ....  a  boy  bathing  on  the  oppo- 
site Nile  bank,  whom  a  crocodile  had  dragged  down 
....  and  that  scream,  faint  and  distant  as  it  came 
across  the  mighty  tide,  had  rung  intolerable  in  his  ears 
for  days  ....  and  to  think  of  all  which  echoed  through 
those  vaults  of  fire  —  for  ever  !  Was  the  thought  bear- 
able ?  —  was  it  possible  ?  Millions  upon  millions  burn- 
ing for  ever  for  Adam's  fall Could  God  be  just  in 

that  ?  .  .  .  . 

It  was  the  temptation  of  a  fiend  !  He  had  entered 
the  unhallowed  precincts,  where  devils  still  lingered 
about  their  ancient  shrines  ;  he  had  let  his  eyes  devour 
the  abominations  of  the  heathen,  and  given  place  to  the 
Devil.  He  would  flee  home  to  confess  it  all  to  his  fa- 
ther. He  would  punish  him  as  he  deserved,  pray  for 
him,  forgive  him.  And  yet  could  he  tell  him  all  .'' 
Could  he,  dare  he,  confess  to  him  the  whole  truth,  —  the 


30  HYPATIA. 

insatiable  craving  to  know  the  mysteries  of  learning, 
to  see  the  great  roaring  world  of  men,  which  had  been 
growing  up  in  him  slowly,  month  after  month,  till  now 
it  had  assumed  this  fearful  shape  ?  He  could  stay  no 
lonn;er  in  the  desert.  This  world  which  sent  all  souls  to 
hell,  —  was  it  as  bad  as  monks  declared  it  was?  It 
must  be,  else  how  could  such  be  the  fruit  of  it  ?  But 
it  was  too  awful  a  tliought  to  be  taken  on  trust.  No  ; 
he  must  go  and  see. 

Filled  with  such  fearful  questionings,  half-inarticulate 
and  vague,  like  the  thoughts  of  a  child,  the  untutored 
youth  went  wandering  on,  till  he  reached  the  edge  of 
the  cliff  below  which  lay  his  home. 

It  lay  pleasantly  enough,  that  lonely  Laura,  or  lane 
of  rude  Cyclopean  cells,  under  the  perpetual  shadow  of 
the  southern  wall  of  crags,  amid  its  grove  of  ancient 
date-trees.  A  branching  cavern  in  the  cliff  supplied 
the  purposes  of  a  chapel,  a  storehouse,  and  a  hospital ; 
while  on  the  sunny  slope  across  the  glen  lay  the  com- 
mon gardens  of  the  brotherhood,  green  with  millet, 
maize,  and  beans,  among  which  a  tiny  streamlet,  hus- 
banded and  guided  with  the  most  thrifty  care,  wan- 
dered down  from  the  cliff  foot,  and  spread  perpetual 
verdure  over  the  little  plot  which  voluntary  and  frater- 
nal labor  had  painfully  redeemed  from  the  inroads  of 
the  all-devouring  sand.  For  that  garden,  like  every 
thing  else  in  the  Laura,  except  each  brother's  seven 
feet  of  stone  sleeping-hut,  was  the  common  property, 
and  therefore  the  common  care  and  joy,  of  all.  For 
the  common  good,  as  well  as  for  his  own,  each  man 
had  toiled  up  the  glen  with  his  palm-leaf  basket  of  black 
mud  from  the  river  Nile,  over  whose  broad  sheet  of 
silver  the  glen's  mouth  yawned  abrupt.     For  the  com- 


THE    LAUEA.  31 

mon  good,  each  man  had  swept  the  ledges  clear  of 
sand,  and  sown  in  the  scanty  artificial  soil,  the  harvest 
of  which  all  were  to  share  alike.  To  buy  clothes, 
books,  and  chapel-furniture  for  the  common  necessities, 
education,  and  worship,  each  man  sat,  day  after  day, 
week  after  week,  his  mind  full  of  high  and  heavenly 
thoughts,  weaving  the  leaves  of  their  little  palm-copse 
into  baskets,  which  an  aged  monk  exchanged  for  goods 
with  the  more  prosperous  and  frequented  monasteries 
of  the  opposite  bank.  Thither  Philammon  rowed  the 
old  man  over,  week  by  week,  in  a  light  canoe  of  pa- 
pyrus, and  fished,  as  he  sat  waiting  for  him,  for  the 
common  meal.  A  simple,  happy,  gentle  life  was  that 
of  the  Laura,  all  portioned  out  by  rules  and  methods, 
which  were  held  hardly  less  sacred  than  those  of  the 
Scriptures,  on  which  they  were  supposed  (and  not  so 
wrongly  either)  to  have  been  framed.  Each  man  had 
food  and  raiment,  shelter  on  earth,  friends  and  counsel- 
lors, living  trust  in  the  continual  care  of  Almighty 
God  ;  and,  blazing  before  his  eyes,  by  day  and  night, 
the  hope  of  everlasting  glory  beyond  all  poets'  dreams. 
....  And  what  more  would  man  have  had  in  those 
days  ?  Thither  they  had  fled  out  of  cities,  compared 
with  which  Paris  is  earnest  and  Gomorrha  chaste,  — 
out  of  a  rotten,  infernal,  dying  world  of  tyrants  and 
slaves,  hypocrites  and  wantons,  —  to  ponder  undisturbed 
on  duty  and  on  judgment,  on  death  and  eternity,  heaven 
and  hell  ;  to  find  a  common  creed,  a  common  interest, 
a  common  hope,  common  duties,  pleasures,  and  sor- 
rows  True,  they  had  many  of  them   fled  from 

the  post  where  God  had  placed   them,  when  they  fled 

from  man  into  the  Thebaid  waste What  sort  of 

post  and  what  sort  of  an  age  they  were,  from  which 


32 


HYPATIA. 


those  old  monks  fled,  we  shall  see,  perhaps,  before  this 
tale  is  told  out. 

"  Thou  art  late,  son,"  said  the  abbot,  steadfastly  work- 
ing away  at  his  palm-basket,  as  Philammon  approached. 
"  Fuel  is  scarce,  and  I  was  forced  to  go  far." 
"  A  monk  should  not  answer  till  he  is  questioned. 
I  did  not  ask  the  reason.     Where  didst  thou  find  that 
wood  ?  " 

"  Before  the  temple,  far  up  the  glen." 
"  The  temple  !     What  didst  thou  see  there  ?  " 
No  answer.     Pambo  looked  up  with  his  keen  black 
eye. 

"  Thou  hast  entered  it,  and  lusted  after  its  abomina- 


tions." 


"I  —  I  did  not  enter  ;  but  I  looked " 

"  And  what  didst  thou  see  ?     Women  ?  " 

Philammon  was  silent. 

"  Have  I  not  bidden  you  never  to  look  on  the  face 
of  women  ?  Are  they  not  the  first-fruits  of  the  Devil, 
the  authors  of  all  evil,  the  subtlest  of  all  Satan's  snares  ? 
Are  they  not  accursed  for  ever,  for  the  deceit  of  their 
first  mother,  by  whom  sin  entered  into  the  world  ?  A 
woman  first  opened  the  gates  of  hell ;  and,  until  this 
day,  they  are  the  portresses  thereof.  Unhappy  boy! 
what  hast  thou  done  ?  " 

"  They  were  but  painted  on  the  walls." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  the  abbot,  as  if  suddenly  relieved  from 
a  heavy  burden.  "  But  how  knewest  thou  them  to  be 
women,  when  thou  hast  never  yet,  unless  thou  liest,  — 
which  1  believe  not  of  thee, —  seen  the  face  of  a  daugh- 
ter of  Eve  .?  " 

"Perhaps,  —  perhaps,"  said  Philammon,  as  if  sud- 
denly relieved  by  a  new  suggestion, — "  perhaps  they 


THE    LAURA.  33 

were  only  devils.     They  must  have  been,  I  think,  for 
they  were  so  very  beautiful !  " 

"  Ah  !  how  knowest  thou  that  devils  are  beautiful  ?  " 

"  I  was  launching  the  boat,  a  week  ago,  with  Father 
Aufugus  ;  and  on  the  bank,  ....  not  very  near,  .... 
there  were  two  creatures  ....  with  long  hair,  and 
striped  all  over  the  lower  half  of  their  bodies  with 
black,  and  red,  and  yellow  ....  and  they  were  gath- 
ering flowers  on  the  shore.  Father  Aufugus  turned 
away  ;  but  I  ....  I  could  not  help  thinking  them  the 
most  beaiuiful  things  that  I  had  ever  seen  ....  so  I 
asked  him  why  he  turned  away  ;  and  he  said  that  those 
were  the  same  sort  of  devils  which  tempted  the  blessed 
St.  Anthony.  Then  I  recollected  having  heard  it  read 
aloud,  how  Satan   tempted  Anthony  in  the  shape  of  a 

beautiful  woman And  so  ...  .  and  so  ...  .  those 

figures  on  the  wall  were  very  like  ....  and  I  thought 
they  might  be  ....  " 

And  the  poor  boy,  who  considered  that  he  wafe  mak- 
ing confession  of  a  deadly  and  shameful  sin,  blushed 
scarlet,  and  stammered,  and  at  last  stopped. 

"  And  thou  thoughtest  them  beautiful  ?  O  utter 
corruption  of  the  flesh  !  O  subtlety  of  Satan !  The 
Lord  forgive  thee,  as  I  do,  my  poor  child  :  henceforth 
thou  goest  not  beyond  the  garden  walls." 

"  Not  beyond  the  walls  !  Impossible  !  I  cannot ! 
If  thou  wert  not  my  father,  I  would  say,  I  will  not ! 
I  must  have  liberty  !  I  must  see  for  myself,  I  must 
judge  for  myself,  what  this  world  is  of  which  you  all 
talk  so  bitterly.  I  long  for  no  pomps  and  vanities.  I 
will  promise  you  this  moment,  if  you  will,  never  to  re- 
enter a  heathen  temple,  —  to  hide  my  face  in  the  dust 
whenever  I  approach  a  woman.     But  I  must,  I  must 


34  HYPATIA. 

see  the  world  ;  I  must  see  the  great  mother-church  in 
Alexandria,  and  the  patriarch,  and  his  clergy.  If  they 
can  serve  God  in  the  city,  why  not  I  ?  I  could  do 
more  for  God  there  than  here.  ....  Not  that  I  despise 
this  work,  not  that  I  am  ungrateful  to  you,  —  O,  never, 
never  that !  —  but  I  pant  for  the  battle.  Let  me  go ! 
I  am  not  discontented  with  you,  but  with  myself.  I 
know  that  obedience  is  noble  ;  but  danger  is  nobler 
still.  If  you  have  seen  the  world,  why  should  not  I  .-* 
If  you  have  fled  from  it  because  you  found  it  too  evil 
to  live  in,  why  should  not  I,  and  return  to  you  here  of 
my  own  will,  never  to  leave  you  ?  .  .  .  .  And  yet  Cyril 
and  his  clergy  have  not  fled  from  it  ....  " 

Desperately  and  breathlessly  did  Philammon  drive 
this  speech  out  of  his  inmost  heart ;  and  then  waited, 
expecting  the  good  abbot  to  strike  him  on  the  spot.  If 
he  had,  the  young  man  would  have  submitted  patiently; 
so  would  any  man,  however  venerable,  in  that  monas- 
tery  Why  not  ?     Duly,  after  long  companionship, 

thought,  and  prayer,  they  had  elected  Pambo  for  their 
abbot,  abba,  father,  the  wisest,  eldest-hearted  and 
headed  of  them ;  if  he  was  that,  it  was  time  that  he 

should  be   obeyed And   obeyed  he   was,   with  a 

loyal,  reasonable  love,  and  yet  with  an  implicit,  soldier- 
like obedience,  which  many  a  king  and  conqueror 
might  envy.  Were  they  cowards  and  slaves  ?  The 
Roman  legionaries  should  be  good  judges  on  that  point. 
....  They  used  to  say  that  no  armed  barbarian,  Goth 
or  Vandal,  Moor  or  Spaniard,  was  so  terrible  as  the 
unarmed  monk  of  the  Thcbaid. 

Twice  the  old  man  lifted  his  stafl"  to  strike  ;  twice  he 
laid  it  down  again  ;  and  then,  slowly  rising,  left  Philam- 
mon kneeling  there,  and  moved  away  deliberately,  and 


THE    LAURA.  .  35 

with  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground,  to  the  house  of  the 
brother  Aufugus. 

Every  one  in  the  Laura  honored  Aufugus.  There 
was  a  mystery  about  him,  which  heightened  the  charm 
of  his  surpassing  sanctity,  his  childhke  sweetness  and 
humility.  It  was  whispered  —  when  the  monks  seldom 
and  cautiously  did  whisper  together  in  their  lonely 
walks  —  that  he  had  been  once  a  great  man ;  that  he 
had  come  from  a  great  city,  perhaps  from  Rome  itself. 
And  the  simple  monks  were  proud  to  think  that  they 
had  among  them  a  man  who  had  seen  Rome.  At  least, 
Abbot  Pambo  respected  him.  He  was  never  beaten  ; 
never  even  reproved,  —  perhaps  he  never  required  it; 
but  still  it  was  the  meed  of  all  ;  and  was  not  the  abbot  a 
little  partial  ?  Yet,  certainly,  when  Theophilus  sent  up 
a  messenger  from  Alexandria,  rousing  eveiy  Laura 
with  the  news  of  the  sack  of  Rome  by  Alaric,  did  not 
Pambo  take  him  first  to  the  cell  of  Aufugus,  and  sit 
with  him  there  three  whole  hours  in  secret  consultation, 
before  he  told  the  awful  story  to  the  rest  of  the  brother- 
hood ?  And  did  not  Aufugus  himself  give  letters  to  the 
messenger,  written  with  his  own  hand,  containing,  as 
was  said,  deep  secrets  of  worldly  policy,  known  only  to 
himself.^  So,  when  the  little  lane  of  holy  men,  each 
peering  stealthily  over  his  plaiting-work  from  the  door- 
way of  his  sandstone  cell,  saw  the  abbot,  after  his 
unwonted  passion,  leave  the  culprit  kneeling,  and  take 
his  way  toward  the  sage's  dwelling,  they  judged  that 
something  strange  and  delicate  had  befallen  the  com- 
mon weal,  and  each  wished,  without  envy,  that  he  were 
as  wise  as  the  man  whose  counsel  was  to  solve  the 
difficulty. 

For  an  hour  or  more  the  abbot  remained  there,  talk- 


36  HYPATIA. 

ing  earnestly  and  low ;  and  then  a  solemn  sound  as  of 
the  two  old  men  praying  with  sobs  and  tears :  and 
every  brother  bowed  his  head,  and  whispered  a  hope 
that  He  whom  they  served  might  guide  them  for  the 
good  of  the  Laura,  and  of  his  Church,  and  of  the  great 
heathen  world  beyond  ;  and  still  Philammon  knelt  mo- 
tionless, awaiting  his  sentence;  his  heart  filled,  —  who 
can  tell  how  ?  "  The  heart  knoweth  its  own  bitterness, 
and  a  stranger  intermeddleth  not  with  its  joy."  So 
thought  he  as  he  knelt;  and  so  think  I,  too,  knowing 
that  in  the  pettiest  diameter  there  are  unfathomable 
depths,  which  the  poet,  all-seeing  though  he  may  pre- 
tend to  be,  can  never  realize,  but  must  only  dimly 
guess  at,  and  still  more  dimly  sketch  them  by  the  ac- 
tions which  they  beget. 

At  last  Pambo  returned,  deliberate,  still,  and  slow,  as 
he  had  gone,  and  seating  himself  within  his  cell,  spoke  :  — 

"  And  the  youngest  said.  Father,  give  me  the  por- 
tion of  goods  that  falleth  to  my  share And  he 

took  his  journey  into  a  far  country,  and  there  wasted 
his  substance  with  riotous  living.  Thou  shalt  go,  my 
son.  But  first  come  after  me,  and  speak  with  Au- 
fugus." 

Philammon,  like  every  one  else,  loved  Aufugus  ; 
and  when  the  abbot  retired  and  left  the  two  alone 
together,  he  felt  no  dread  or  shame  about  unburdening 

his  whole  heart  to  him Long  and  passionately 

he  spoke,  in  answer  to  the  gentle  questions  of  the  old 
man,  who,  without  the  rigidity  or  pedantic  solemnity  of 
the  monk,  interrupted  the  youth,  and  let  himself  be 
interrupted  in  return,  gracefully,  genially,  almost  play- 
fully. And  yet  there  was  a  melancholy  about  his  tone, 
as  he  answered  to  the  youth's  appeal :  — 


THE    LAURA.  37 

"  TertuUian,  Origen,  Clement,  Cyprian,  —  all  these 
moved  in  the  world  ;  all  these,  and  many  more  beside, 
whose  names  we  honor,  whose  prayers  we  invoke, 
were  learned  in  the  wisdom  of  the  heathen,  and  fought 
and  labored,  unspotted,  in  the  world  ;  and  why  not  I? 
Cyril  the  Patriarch,  himself,  was  he  not  called  from  the 
caves  of  Nitria  to  sit  on  the  throne  of  Alexandria  ?  " 

Slowly  the  old  man  lifted  his  hand,  and  putting 
back  the  thick  locks  of  the  kneeling  youth,  gazed,  with 
soft,  pitying  eyes,  long  and  earnestly  into  his  face. 

"  And  thou  wouldst  see  the  world,  poor  fool  ?  And 
thou  wouldst  see  the  world  ?  " 

"  I  would  convert  the  world  !  " 

"  Thou  must  know  it,  first.  And  shall  I  tell  thee 
what  that  world  is  like,  which  seems  to  thee  so  easy  to 
convert  ?  Here  I  sit,  the  poor,  unknown  old  monk, 
until  I  die,  fasting  and  praying,  if  perhaps  God  will 
have  mercy  on  my  soul :  but  little  thou  knowest  how  I 
have  seen  it.  Little  thou  knowest,  or  thou  wouldst  be 
well  content  to  rest  here  till  the  end.  I  was  Arsenius. 
....  Ah  !  vain  old  man  that  I  am  !  Thou  hast  never 
heard  that  name,  at  which  once  queens  would  whisper 
and  grow  pale.  Vanitas  vanitatum  !  oinnia  vanitas  ! 
And  yet  he,  at  whose  frown  half  the  world  trembles, 
has  trembled  himself  at  mine.  I  was  the  tutor  of  Ar- 
cadius." 

"  The  Emperor  of  Byzantium  ?  " 

"  Even  so,  my  son,  even  so.  There  I  saw  the 
world  which-  thou  wouldst  see.  And  what  saw  I  ? 
Even  what  thou  wilt  see.  Eunuchs  the  tyrants  of 
their  own  sovereigns.  Bishops  kissing  the  feet  of  par- 
ricides and  harlots.  Saints  tearing  saints  in  pieces  fur 
a  word,  while  sinners  cheer  them  on  to  the  unnatural 


38  HYPATIA. 

fight.  Liars  thanked  for  lying,  hypocrites  rejoicing  in 
their  hypocrisy.  The  many  sold  and  butchered  for  the 
malice,  the  caprice,  the  vanity  of  the  few.  The  plun- 
derers of  the  poor  plundered  in  their  turn  by  worse 
devourcr?  than  themselves.  Every  attempt  at  reform 
the  parent  of  worse  scandals  ;  every  mercy  begetting 
fresh  cruelties  ;  every  pei'secutor  silenced,  only  to  en- 
able others  to  persecute  him  in  their  turn ;  every  devil 
who  is  exorcised,  returning  with  seven  others  worse  than 
himself;  falsehood  and  selfishness,-  spite  and  lust,  con- 
fusion seven  times  confounded,  Satan  casting  out  Satan 
everywhere,  —  from  the  emperor  who  wantons  on  his 
throne,  to  the  slave  who  blasphemes  beneath  his  fet- 
ters." 

"  If  Satan  cast  out  Satan,  his  kingdom  shall  not 
stand." 

"In  the  world  to  come.  But  in  this  world  it  shall 
stand  and  conquer,  even  worse  and  worse,  until  the 
end.  These  are  the  last  days  spoken  of  by  the  proph- 
ets, the  beginning  of  woes  such  as  never  have  been  on 
the  earth  before.  '  On  earth  distress  of  nations  with 
perplexity,  men's  hearts  failing  them  for  fear,  and  for 
the  dread  of  those  things  which  are  coming  on  the 
earth.'  I  have  seen  it  long,  Year  after  year  I  have 
watched  them  coming  nearer  and  ever  nearer  in  their 
course,  like  the  whirling  sand-storms  of  the  desert, 
which  sweep  past  the  caravan,  and  past  again,  and  yet 
overwhelm  it  after  all,  —  that  black  flood  of  the  North- 
ern barbarians.  I  foretold  it  ;  I  prayed  against  it;  but, 
like  Cassandra's  of  old,  my  prophecy  and  my  prayers 
were  alike  unheard.  My  pupil  spurned  my  warnings. 
The  lusts  of  youth,  the  intrigues  of  courtiers,  were 
stronger  than  the  warning  voice  of  God  ;  then  I  ceased 


THE    LATJRA.  39 

to  hope ;  I  ceased  to  pray  for  the  glorious  city,  for  I 
knew  that  her  sentence  was   gone  forth  ;   I  saw  her  in 
the  spirit,  even  as  Saint  John  saw  her  in  the  Revela- 
lion ;   her,   and   her  sins,   and   her    ruin.      And  I  fled 
secretly  at  night,  and  buried  myself  here  in  the  desert, 
to  await  the  epd  of  the  world.     Night  and  day  I  pray 
the   Lord  to  accomplish  his  elect,   and   to  hasten   his 
kingdom.     Morning  by  morning  I   look  up  trembling, 
and  yet  in  hope,  for  the   sign  of  the   Son  of  Man  in 
heaven,  when  the   sun  shall   be  turned  into  darkness, 
and  the  moon  into  blood,  and  the  stars  shall   fall  from 
heaven,   and   the   skies   pass    away  like   a   scroll,   and 
the  fountains  of  the  nether  fire  burst  up  around    our 
feet,  and  the  end  of  all  shall  come.     And  thou  wouldst 
go  into  the  world  from  which  I  fled  ?  " 

"  If  the  harvest  be  at  hand,  the  Lord  needs  laborers. 
If  the  times  be  awful,  I  should  be  doing  awful  things  in 
them.  Send  me,  and  let  that  day  find  me,  where  I 
lono-  to  be,  in  the  forefront  of  the  battle  of  the  Lord." 

"  The   Lord's   voice    be    obeyed  !     Thou    shalt   go. 
Here  are  letters  to  Cyril  the  patriarch.     He  will  love 
thee  for  my  sake  :  and  for  thine  own  sake,  too,  I  trust. 
Thou  goest  of  our  free  will  as  well  as  thine  own.     The 
abbot  and  I  have  watched  thee  long,  knowing  that  the 
Lord  had  need  of  such  as  thee  elsewhere.     We  did  but 
prove  thee,  to  see,  by  thy  readiness  to  obey,  whether 
thou   wert    fit    to    rule.     Go,    and    God   be  with   thee. 
Covet  no  man's  gold  or  silver.     Neither  eat  flesh   nor 
drink  wine,  but  live  as  thou  hast  lived,  —  a  Nazarite  of 
the  Lord.     Fear  not  the  face  of  man  ;  but  look  not  on 
the  face  of  woman.     In  an  evil  hour  came  they  into 
the  world,  the   mothers  of  all  mischiefs  which  I  have 
seen  under  the  sun.     Come  ;  the  abbot  waits  for  us  at 
the  gate." 


40  HYPATIA. 

^    With  tears  of  surprise,  joy,  sorrow,  almost  of  dread, 
Philammon  hung  back. 

"  Nay,  come.  Why  shouldst  tliou  break  thy  breth- 
ren's hearts  and  ours  by  many  leave-takings  ?  Bring 
from  the  storehouse  a  week's  provision  of  dried  dates 
and  millet.  The  papyrus  boat  lies  atJhe  ferry  ;  thou 
shalt  descend  in  it.  The  Lord  will  replace-  it  for  us 
when  we  need  it.  Speak  with  no  man  on  the  river,  ex- 
cept the  monks  of  God.  When  thou  hast  gone  five 
days'  journey  downward,  ask  for  the  mouth  of  the  canal 
of  Alexandria.  Once  in  the  city,  any  monk  will  -guide 
thee  to  the  archbishop.  Send  us  news  of  thy  welfare 
by  some  holy  mouth.     Come." 

Silently  they  paced  together  down  the  glen  to  the 
lonely  beach  of  the  great  stream.  Pambo  was  there 
already,  his  white  hair  glittering  in  the  rising  moon,-  as 
with  slow  and  feeble  arms  he  launched  the  light  canoe. 
Philammon  flung  himselfat  the  old  men's  feet,  and  be- 
sought, with  many  tears,  their  forgiveness  and  their 
blessing. 

"  We  have  nothing  to  forjTive.  Follow  thou  thine  in- 
ward  call.  If  it  be  of  the  flesh,  it  will  avenge  itself:  if 
it  be  of  the  Spirit,  who  are  we  that  we  should  fight 
against  God  ?     Farewell !  " 

A  few  minutes  more,  and  the  .youth  and  his  canoe 
were  lessening  down  the  rapid  stream  in  the  golden 
summer  twilight.  Again  a  minute,  and  the  swift  south- 
ern night  had  fallen,  and  all  was  dark,  but  the  cold 
glare  of  the  moon  on  the  river,  and  on  the  rock-faces, 
and  on  the  two  old  men,  as  they  knelt  upon  the  beach, 
and  with  their  heads  upon  each  other's  shoulders,  U]ce 
two  children,  sobbed  and  prayed  together  for  the  l^st 
darling  of  their  age.  .v 


41 


CHAPTER    II 


THE    DYING    WORLD. 


In  the  upper  story  of  a  house  in  the  Museum  street 
of  Alexandria,  built  and  fitted  up  on  the  old  Athenian 
model,  was  a  small  room.  It  had  been  chosen  by  its 
occupant,  not  merely  on  account  of  its  quiet ;  for  though 
it  was  tolerably  out  of  hearing  of  the  female  slaves 
who  worked,  and  chattered,  and'qimrrelled  under  the 
cloisters  of  the  women's  court  on  the  south  side,  yet  it 
was  exposed  to  the  rattle  of  carriages  and  the  voices  of 
passengers  in  the  fashionable  street  '  below,  •  arfd  46 
strange  bursts  of  roaring,  squealing,  ■■  ahd  trumpeting 
from  the  Menagerie,  a  short  way  off,- on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  street.  The  attraction  of  the  situation  lay, 
perhaps,  in  the  view  which  it  commanded'' over  the  wall 
of  the  Museum  gardens,  of  flower-be'ds,  -shrubberies, 
fountains,  statues,  walks,  and  alcoves,  which  had  echoed 
for  nearly  seven  hundred  years -to  the  wisdom  of  the 
Alexandrine  sages  and  poets.  School  after  school, 
they  had  all  walked,  and  taught,  and  sung  there,  beneath 
the  spreading  planes  and  chestnuts,  figs  and  palm-trees. 
The  place  seemed  fragrant  with  all  the  riches  of  Greek! 
thought  and  song,  since  the  days  when  Ptolemy  Phila* 

VOL.  I.  4 


42  HYPATIA. 

delphus  walked  there  with  Euclid  and  Theocritus,  Cal- 
limachus  and  Lycophron. 

On  the  left  of  the  garden  stretched  the  lofty  eastern 
front  of  the  Museum  itself,  with  its  picture-galleries, 
halls  of  statuary,  dining-halls,  and  lecture-rooms  ;  one 
huge  wing  containing  that  famous  library,  founded 
by  the' father  of  Philadelphus,  which  held  in  the  time 
of  Seneca,  even  after  the  destruction  of  a  great  part  of 
it  in  Caesar's  siege,  four  hundred  thousand  manuscripts. 
There  it  towered  up,  the  wonder  of  the  world,  its 
white  roof  bright  against  the  rainless  blue  ;  and  beyond 
it,  among  the  ridges  and  pediments  of  noble  buildings, 
a  broad  glimpse  of  the  bright  blue  sea. 

The  room  was  fitted  up  in  the  purest  Greek  style,  not 
without  an  affectation  of  archaism,  in  the  severe  forms 
and  subdued  half-tints  of  the  frescoes  which  ornament- 
ed the  walls  with  scenes  from  the  old  myths  of  Athene. 
Yet  the  general  effect,  even  under  the  blazing  sun 
which  poured  in  through  the  mosquito  nets  of  the  court- 
yard windows,  was  one  of  exquisite  coolness,  and 
cleanliness,  and  repose.  The  room  had  neither  carpet 
nor  fireplace  ;  and  the  only  movables  in  it  were  a 
sofa-bed,  a  table,  and  an  arm-chair,  all  of  such  delicate 
and  graceful  forms,  as  may  be  seen  on  ancient  vases  of 
a  far  earlier  period  than  tliat  whereof  we  write.  But, 
most  probably,  had  any  of  us  entered  that  room  that 
morning,  we  should  not  have  been  able  to  spare  a  look 
either  for  the  furniture,  or  the  general  effect,  or  the 
Museum  gardens,  or  the  sparkling  Mediterranean  be- 
yond ;  but  we  should  have  agreed  that  the  room  was 
quite  rich  enough  for  human  eyes,  for  the  sake  of  one 
treasure  which  it  possessed,  and,  beside  which,  nothing 
was  worth  a  moment's  glance.     For  in  the  light  arm- 


THE    DYING    "tt'ORLD.  43 

chair,  reading  a  manuscript  which  lay  on  the  table,  sat 
a  woman,  of  some  five-and-twentv  vears,  evidently  the 
tutelary  goddess  of  that  little  shrine,  dressed,  in  perfect 
keeping  with  the  archaism  of  the  chamber,  in  a  simple 
old  snow-white  Ionic  robe,  falling  to  the  feet  and  reach- 
ing to   the   throat,   and  of  that   peculiarly   severe    and 
graceful   fashion   in  which  the  upper  part  of  the  dress 
falls  downward   again   from  the  neck  to  the  waist  in  a 
sort  of  cape,  entirely  hiding  the  outline   of   the  bust, 
while  it  leaves  the  arms  and  the  point  of  the  shoulders 
bare.     Her  dress  was  entirely  without  ornament,  except 
the   two   narrow  purple   stripes   down   the   front,  which 
marked  her  rank  as  a  Roman  citizen,  the  gold-embroi- 
dered  shoes  upon   her  feet,  and    the  gold  net,  which 
looped  back  from  her  forehead   to   her  neck,  hair  the 
color  and  gloss  of  which  were  hardly  distinguishable 
from   that  of  the   metal  itself,  such  as  Athene  herself 
might  have  envied  for  tint,  and  mass,  and  ripple.     Her 
features,  arms,  and   hands  were    of  the    severest   and 
grandest  type   of  old  Greek  beauty,  at  once  showing 
everywhere   the   high   development  of  the  bones,    and 
covering  them  with  that  firm,  round,  ripe  outline,  and 
waxy  morbidezza  of  skin,  which  the  old  Greeks  owed 
to  their  continual  use,  not  only  of  the  bath  and  muscular 
exercise,    but   also    of   daily    unguents.     There    might 
have  seemed  to  us  too  much  sadness  in  that  clear  gray 
eye;  too  much   self-conscious   restraint  in  those  sharp 
curved  lips  ;  too  much  affectation  in  the  studied  sever- 
ity of  her  posture  as  she  read,  copied,  as  it  seemed, 
from  some   old  vase   or  bass-relief.     But   the  glorious 
grace  and  beauty  of  every  line  of  face  and  figure  would 
have  excused,  even  hidden  those  defects,  and  we  should 
have  only  recognized  the  marked  resemblance  to  the 


44  lUTATIA. 

ideal  portraits  of  Athene,  wliich  adorned  every  panel 
of  the  walls. 

She  has  lifted  her  eyes  oiT  her  manuscript ;  she  is 
lookin"  out  with  kindlinjj  countenance  over  the  wardens 
of  the  Museum  ;  her  ripe,  curling  Greek  lips,  such  as 
we  never  see  now,  even  among  our  own  wives  and 
sisters,  open.     She  is  talking  to  herself.     Listen  ! 

"  Yes.  The  statues  there  are  broken.  The  libraries 
are  plundered.  The  alcoves  are  silent.  The  oracles 
are  dumb.  And  yet,  who  says  that  the  old  faith  of 
heroes  and  sages  is  dead  ?  The  beautiful  can  never 
die.  If  the  gods  have  deserted  their  oracles,  they  have 
not  deserted  the  souls  who  aspire  to  them.  If  they 
have  ceased  to  guide  nations,  they  have  not  ceased  to 
speak  to  their  own  elect.  If  they  have  cast  off  the  vul- 
gar herd,  they  have  not  cast  off  Hypatia. 

"  Ay.     To  believe  in  the  old  creeds,  while  every  one 

else  is  dropping  away  from  them To  believe  in 

spite  of  disappointments To  hope  against  hope 

To  show  one's  self  superior  to  the  herd,  by  seeing  bound- 
less depths  of  living  glory  in  myths  which  have  become 

dark   and  dead  to  them To   struggle  to  the  last 

against  the  new  and  vulgar  superstitions  of  a  rotting 
age,  for  the  faith  of  my  forefathers,  for  the  old  gods, 
the  old  heroes,  the  old  sages  who  gauged  the  mysteries 
of  heaven  and  earth,  —  and  perhaps  to  conquer,  —  at 
least  to  have  my  reward  !  To  he  welcomed  into  the 
celestial  ranks  of  the  heroic,  —  to  rise  to  the  immor- 
tal gods,  to  the  ineffable  powers,  onward,  upward  ever, 
through  ages  and  through  eternities,  till  I  find  my  home 
at  last,  and  vanish  in  the  glory  of  the  Nameless  and  the 
Absolute  One  !...." 


THE    DYING    WORLD.  45 

And  her  whole  face  flashed  out  into  wild  glory,  and 
then  sank  again  suddenly  into  a  shudder  of  something 
like  fear  and  disgust,  as  she  saw,  watching  her  from 
under  the  wall  of  the  gardens  opposite,  a  crooked, 
withered  Jewish  crone,  dressed  out  in  the  most  gorgeous 
and  fantastic  style  of  barbaric  finery. 

"  Why  does  that  old  hag  haunt  me  ?  I  see  her 
everywhere, —  till  the  last  month  at  least,  —  and  here 
she  is  again  !  I  will  ask  the  prefect  to  find  out  who  she 
is,  and  get  rid  of  her,  before  she  fascinates  me  with  that 
evil  eye.  Thank  the  gods,  there  she  moves  away ! 
Foolish  !  — foolish  of  me,  a  philosopher.  I,  to  believe, 
against  the  authority  of  Porphyry  himself,  too,  in  evil 
eyes  and  magic  !  But  there  is  my  father,  pacing  up 
and  down  in  the  library." 

As  she  spoke,  the  old  man  entered  from  the  next 
room.  He  was  a  Greek  also,  but  of  a  more  common, 
and,  perhaps,  lower  type  ;  dark  and  fiery,  thin  and 
graceful  ;  his  delicate  figure  and  cheeks,  wasted  by 
meditation,  harmonized  well  with  the  staid  and  simple 
philosophic  cloak  which  he  wore  as  a  sign  of  his  pro- 
fession. He  paced  impatiently  up  and  down  the  cham- 
ber, while  his  keen,  glittering  eyes  and  restless  gestures 
betokened  intense  inward  thought 

....  "I  have  it No;  again  it  escapes, —  it 

contradicts  itself.  Miserable  man  that  I  am  !  If  there  is 
faith  in  Pythagoras,  the  symbol  should  be  an  expanding 
series  of  the  powers  of  three  ;  and  yet  that  accursed 
binary  factor  will  introduce  itself.  Did  not  you  work 
the  sum  out  once,  Hypatia  ?  " 

"  Sit  down,   my  dear    father,   and   eat.      You  have 
tasted  no  food  yet  this  day." 

"  What  do  I  care  for  food  !     The  inexpressible  must 


46  HYPATIA. 

be  expressed.  The  work  mu^t  be  done,  if  it  cost  me 
the  squaring  of  tlie  circle.  How  can  he,  whose  sphere 
lies  above  the  stars,  stoop  every  moment  to  earth  ?  " 

"  Ay,"  she  answered,  half  bitterly,  "and  would  that 
we  could  jive  without  food,  and  imitate  perfectly  the 
immortal  gods.  But  while  we  are  in  this  prison-house 
of  matter,  we  must  wear  our  chain  ;  even  wear  it  grace- 
fully, if  we  have  the  good  taste  ;  and  make  the  base 
necessities  of  this  body  of  shame  symbolic  of  the  diviner 
food  of  the  reason.  There  is  fruit,  with  lentils  and 
rice,  waiting  for  you  in  the  next  room  ;  and  bread, 
unless  you  despise  it  too  much." 

"  The  food  of  slaves!  "  he  answered.  "  Well,  I  will 
eat,  and  be  ashamed  of  eating.  Stay,  did  I  tell  you  ? 
Six  new  pupils  in  the  mathematical  school  this  morn- 
ing.    It  grows  !     It  spreads  !     We  shall  conquer  yet!  " 

She  sighed.  "  How  do  you  know  that  tliey  have  not 
come  to  you,  as  Critias  and  Alcibiades  did  to  Socra- 
tes, to  learn  a  merely  political  and  mundane  virtue  .'' 
Strange  !  that  men  should  be  content  to  grovel,  and  be 
men,  when  they  might  rise  to  the  rank  of  gods !  Ah, 
my  father  !  that  is  my  bitterest  grief;  to  see  those  who 
have  been  pretending  in  the  morning  lecture-room  to 
worship  every  word  of  mine  as  an  oracle,  lounging  in 
the  afternoon  round  Pelagia's  litter;  and  then  at  night 
—  for  I  know  that  they  do  it  —  the  dice,  and  the  wine, 
and  worse.  That  Pallas  herself  should  be  conquered 
every  day  by  Venus  Pandemos  !  That  Pelagia  should 
have  more  power  than  I !  Not  that  such  a  creature  as 
that  disturbs  me  :  no  created  thing,  I  hope,  can  move 
my  equanimity  ;  but  if  I  could  stoop  to  hate,  I  should 
hate  her,  —  hate  her." 

And  her  voice  took  a  tone  which  made  it  somewhat 


THE    DYING    WORLD.  47 

uncertain  whctlicr,  in  spite  of  all  the  lofty  impassibility 
which  she  felt  bound  to  possess,  she  did  not  hate  Pelagia 
with  a  most  human  and  mundane  hatred. 

But  at  that  moment  the  conversation  was  cut  short 
by  the  hasty  entrance  of  a  slave-girl,  who,  with  flutter- 
ing voice,  announced,  — 

"  His  excellency,  madam,  the  prefect !  His  chariot 
has  been  at  the  gate  for  these  five  minutes,  and  he  is 
now  coming  up  stairs." 

"  Foolish  child  !  "  answered  Hypatia,  with  some  affec- 
tation of  indifference.  "  And  why  should  that  disturb 
me  c     Let  him  enter." 

'  The  door  opened,  and  in  came,  preceded  by  the 
scent  of  half  a  dozen  different  perfumes,  a  florid,  deli- 
cate-featured man,  gorgeously  dressed  out  in  senatorial 
costume,  his  fingers  and  neck  covered  with  jewels. 

"  The  representative  of  the  Ctesars  honors  himself 
by  ofiering  at  the  shrine  of  Athene  Polias,  and  rejoices 
to  see  in   her  priestess  as  lovely  a  likeness  as  ever  of 

the  goddess  whom  she   serves Don't  betray  me, 

but  I  really  cannot  help  talking  sheer  paganism  when- 
ever I  find  myself  within  the  influence  of  your  eyes." 

"  Truth  is  mighty,"  said  Hypatia,  as  she  rose  to 
greet  him  with  a  smile  and  a  reverence. 

"Ah,  so  they  say — Your  excellent  father  has  van- 
ished. He  is  really  too  modest  —  honest,  though  — 
about  his  incapacity  for  state  secrets.  After  all,  you 
know  it  was  your  Minervaship  which  I  came  to  consult. 
How  has  this  turbulent  Alexandrian  rascaldom  been 
behaving  itself  in  my  absence  }  " 

"  The  herd  has  been  eating,  and  drinking,  and  mar- 
rying, as  usual,  I  believe,"  answered  Hypatia,  in  a 
languid  tone. 


48  HYPATIA. 

"And  multiplying,  I  don't  doubt.  Well,  there  will 
be  less  loss  to  the  empire  if  I  have  to  crucify  a  dozen 
or  two,  as  I  positively  will,  the  next  riot.  It  is  really  a 
great  comfort  to  a  statesman,  that  the  masses  are  so 
■well  aware  that  they  deserve  hanging,  and  therefore  so 
careful  to  prevent  any  danger  of  public  justice  depopu- 
lating the  province.     But  how  go  on  the  schools  ?  " 

Hypatia  shook  her  head  sadly. 

"  Ah,  boys  will  be  boys I  plead  guilty  myself. 

Video  meliora  prohoque,  deteriora  sequor.     You  must 

not  be  hard  on  us Whether  we  obey  you  or  not 

in  private  life,  we  do  in  public  ;  and  if  we  enthrone 
you  queen  of  Alexandria,  you  must  allow  your  cour- 
tiers and  body-guards  a  few  court  licenses.  Now  don't 
sigh,  or  I  shall  be  inconsolable.  At  all  events,  your 
worst  rival  has  betaken  herself  to  the  wilderness,  and 
gone  to  look  for  the  city  of  the  gods  above  the  cata- 
racts." 

"  Whom  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Hypatia,  in  a  tone 
most  unphilosophically  eager. 

"  Pelagia,  of  course.  I  met  that  prettiest  and  naugh- 
tiest of  humanities  half-way  between  here  and  Thebes, 
transformed  into  a  perfect  Andromache  of  chaste  alfec- 
tion." 

"  And  to  whom,  pray  ?  " 

"  To  a  certain  Gothic  giant.  What  men  those  bar- 
barians do  breed  !  I  was  afraid  of  being  crushed  under 
the  elephant's  foot  at  every  step  I  took  with  him  !  " 

"  What !  "  asked  Hypatia,  "  did  your  excellency  con- 
descend to  converse  with  such  savages  ?  " 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,  he  had  some  forty  stout  coun- 
trymen of  his  with  him,  who  might  have  been  trouble- 
some to  a  perplexed  prefect ;  not  to  mention  that  it  is 


THE    DYING    WORLD.  49 

always  as  well  to  keep  on  good  terms  with  these  Goths. 
Really,  after  the  sack  of  Rome,  and  Athens  cleaned 
out  like  a  beehive  by  wasps,  things  begin  to  look  seri- 
ous. And  as  for  the  great  brute  himself,  he  has  rank 
enough,  in  his  way,  —  boasts  of  his  descent  from  some 
cannibal  god  or  other, —  really  hardly  deigned  to  speak 
to  a  paltry  Roman  governor,  till  his  faithful  and  ador- 
ing bride  interceded  for  me.  Still,  the  fellow  undei'- 
stood  good  living,  and  we  celebrated  our  new  treaty  of 
friendship  with  noble  libations ;  —  but  I  must  not  talk 
about  that  to  you.  However,  I  got  rid  of  them  ;  quoted 
all  the  geographical  lies  I  had  ever  heard,  and  a  great 
many  more  ;  quickened  their  appetite  for  their  fool's 
errand  notably,  and  started  them  off  again.  So  now 
the  star  of  Venus  is  set,  and  that  of  Pallas  in  the  ascend- 
ant. Wherefore  tell  me,  what  am  I  to  do  with  Saint 
Firebrand  ?  " 

"  Cyril  ?  " 

"  Cyril." 

"  Justice." 

"Ah,  Fairest  Wisdom,  don't  mention  that  horrid 
word  out  of  the  lecture-room.  In  theory  it  is  all  very 
well ;  but  in  poor,  imperfect  earthly  practice,  a  gov- 
ernor must  be  content  with  doing  very  much  what 
comes  to  hand.  In  abstract  justice,  now,  I  ought  to 
nail  up  Cyril,  deacons,  district  visitors,  and  all,  in  a 
row,  on  the  sand-hills  outside.  That  is  simple  enough; 
but,  like  a  great  many  simple  and  excellent  things,  im- 
possible." 

"  You  fear  the  people  ?  " 

"Well,  my  dear  lady,  and' has  not  the  villanous 
demagogue  got  the  whole  mob  on  his  side  ?  Am  I  to 
have  the  Constantinople  riots  reenacted  here  .''     I  really 


90 


HYPATIA. 


cannot  face  it ;  I  have  not  nerve  for  it ;  perhaps  I  am 
too  lazy.     Be  it  so." 

Hypatia  sighed.  "  Ah,  that  your  excellency  but  saw 
the  great  duel,  which  depends  on  you  alone  !  Do  not 
fancy  that  the  battle  is  merely  between  Paganism  and 
Christianity " 

"  Why,  if  it  were,  you  know,  I,  as  a  Christian,  under 
a  Christian  and  sainted  emperor,  not  to  mention  his 
august  sister " 

"  We  understand,"  interrupted  she,  with  an  impatient 
wave  of  her  beautiful  hand.  "  Not  even  between  them  ; 
not  even  between  philosophy  and  barbarianism.  The 
struggle  is  simply  one  between  die  aristocracy  and  the 
mob,  —  between  wealth,  refinement,  art,  learning,  all 
that  makes  a  nation  great,  and  the  savage  herd  of  child- 
breeders  below,  the  many  ignoble,  who  were  meant  to 
labor  for  the  noble  k\v.  Shall  the  Roman  empire  com- 
mand or  obey  her  own  slaves  ?  is  the  question  which 
you  and  Cyril  have  to  battle  out ;  and  the  fight  must  be 
internecine." 

"  1  should  not  wonder  if  it  became  so,  really,"  an- 
swered the  prefect,  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders.  "  I 
expect,  every  time  I  ride,  to  have  my  brains  knocked 
out  by  some  mad  monk." 

"  Why  not .''  In  an  age  when,  as  has  been  well  and 
often  said,  emperors  and  consulars  crawl  to  the  tombs 
of  a  tent-maker  and  a  fisherman,  and  kiss  the  mouldy 
bones  of  the  vilest  slaves  ?  Why  not,  among  a  people 
whose  God  is  the  crucified  son  of  a  carpenter  ?  Why 
should  learning,  authority,  antiquity,  birth,  rank,  the 
system  of  empire  which  has  been  growing  up,  fed  by 
the  accumulated  wisdom  of  ages, —  why,  I  say,  should 
any  of  these  things  protect  your  life  a  moment  from  the 


THE    DYING    WORLD,  51 

fury  of  any  beggar  who  believes  that  the  Son  of  God 
died  for  him  as  much  as  for  you,  and  that  he  is  your 
equal,  if  not  your  superior,  in  the  sight  of  his  low-born 
and  illiterate  deity  ?  "  * 

"  My  most  eloquent  philosopher,  this  may  be  —  and 
perhaps  is  —  all  very  true.  I  quite  agree  that  there  are 
very  great  practical  inconveniences  of  this  kind  in  the 
new  —  I  mean,  the  catholic  faith;  but  the  world  is  full 
of  inconveniences.  The  wise  man  does  not  quarrel 
with  his  creed  for  being  disagreeable,  any  more  than  he 
does  with  his  finger  for  aching  :  he  cannot  help  it,  and 
must  make  the  best  of  a  bad  matter.  Only  tell  me  how 
to  keep  the  peace." 

"  And  let  philosophy  be  destroyed  ?  " 

"  That  it  never  will  be,  as  long  as  Hypatia  lives  to 
illuminate  the  earth  ;  and,  as  far  as  I  am  concerned,  I 
promise  you  a  clear  stage  and  —  a  great  deal  of  favor  ; 
as  is  proved  by  my  visiting  you  publicly  at  this  mo- 
ment, before  I  have  given  audience  to  one  of  the  four 
hundred  bores,  great  and  small,  who  are  waiting  in  the 
tribunal  to  torment  me.  Do  help  me  and  advise  me. 
•What  am  I  to  do  }  " 

"  I  have  told  you." 

"  Ah,  yes,  as  to  general  principles.  But  out  of  the 
lecture-room  I  prefer  a  practical  expedient  :  for  in- 
stance, Cyril  writes  to  me  here  —  plague  on  him  !  he 
would  not  let  me  even  have  a  week's  hunting  in  peace 
—  that  there  is  a  plot  on  the  part  of  the  Jews  to  murder 
all  the  Christians.  Here  is  the  precious  document,  — 
do  look  at  it,  in  pity.     For  aught  I  know  or  care,  the 

*  These  are  the  arguments  and  the  lan<,^uage  which  were  com- 
monly employed  by  Porphyry,  Julian,  and  the  other  opponents  of 
Christianity. 


52  HYPATIA. 

plot  may  be  an  exactly  opposite  one,  and  the  Christians 
intend  to  murder  all  the  Jews.  But  I  must  take  some 
notice  of  the  letter.'" 

"  I  do  not  see  that,  your  excellency." 

"  Why,  if  any  thing  did  liappen,  after  all,  conceive 
the  missives  which  would  be  sent  flying  off  to  Constan- 
tinople against  me  ! " 

"  Let  them  go.  If  you  are  secure  in  the  conscious- 
ness of  innocence,  what  matter  ?  " 

"  Consciousness  of  innocence  !  I  shall  lose  my  pre- 
fecture !  " 

"  Your  danger  would  be  just  as  great  if  you  took 
notice  of  it.  Whatever  hapi)ened,  you  would  be  accused 
of  favoring  the  Jews." 

"  And  really  there  might  be  some  truth  in  the  accu- 
sation. I  low  the  finances  of  the  province  would  go  on 
without  their  kind  assistance,  I  dare  not  think.  If  those 
Christians  would  but  lend  me  their  money,  instead  of 
building  almshouses  and  hospitals  with  it,  they  might 
burn  the  Jews'  quarter  to-morrow  for  aught  I  care.  But 
now  .  .  .  ." 

"  But  now,  you  must  absolutely  take  no  notice  of  this 
letter.  The  very  tone  of  it  forbids  you,  for  your  own 
honor,  and  the  honor  of  the  empire.  Are  you  to  treat 
with  a  man  who  talks  of  the  masses  of  Alexandria  as 
'  the  flock  whom  the  Kina;  of  kings  has  committed  to 
his  rule  and  care  '  ?  Does  your  excellency,  or  this 
proud  bishop,  govern  Alexandria  ?  " 

"  R(;ally,  my  dear  lady,  I  have  given  up  inquiring." 

"  But  he  has  not.  lie  comes  to  you  as  a  person 
possessing  an  absolute  authority  over  two  tliinls  of  the 
population,  which  he  does  not  scruple  to  hint  to  you  is 
derived  from  a  hio-hcr  source  than  your  own.     The 


THE    DYING    WORLD.  53 

consequence  is  clear.  If  it  be  from  a  higher  source 
than  yours,  of  course  it  ought  to  control  yours  ;  and  you 
will  confess  that  it  ought  to  control  it,  —  you  will  ac- 
knowledge the  root  and  ground  of  every  extravagant 
claim  which  he  makes,  if  you  deign  to  reply." 

"  But  I  must  say  something,  or  I  shall  be  pelted  in 
the  streets.  You  philosophers,  however  raised  above 
your  own  bodies  you  may  be,  must  really  not  forget 
that  we  poor  worldlings  have  bones  to  be  broken." 

"Then  tell  him,  and  by  word  of  mouth  merely,  that 
as  the  information  which  he  sends  you  comes  from  his 
private  knowledge,  and  concerns  not  him  as  bishop,  but 
you  as  magistrate,  you  can  only  take  it  into  considera- 
tion when  he  addresses  you  as  a  private  person,  laying 
a  regular  information  at  your  tribunal." 

"  Charming  !  queen  of  diplomatists  as  well  as  philos- 
ophers !  I  go  to  obey  you.  Ah  !  why  were  you  not 
Pulcheria  ?  No,  for  then  Alexandria  had  been  dark, 
and  Orestes  missed  the  supreme  happiness  of  kissing  a 
hand  which  Pallas,  when  she  made  you,  must  have  bor- 
rowed from  the  workshop  of  Aphrodite." 

"  Recollect  that  you  are  a  Christian,"  answered  Hy- 
patia,  half  smiling. 

So  the  prefect  departed  ;  and  passing  through  the 
outer  hall,  which  was  already  crowded  with  Hypatia's 
aristocratic  pupils  and  visitors,  bowed  his  way  out  past 
them,  and  regained  his  chariot,  chuckling  over  the  re- 
buff which  he  intended  to  administer  to  Cyril,  and  com- 
forting himself  with  the  only  text  of  Scripture  of  the 
inspiration  of  which  he  was  thoroughly  convinced, — 
"  Sufficient  for  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof." 

At  the  door  was  a  crowd  of  chariots,  slaves  with  their 
masters'  parasols,  and  the  rabble  of  on-looking  boys  and 


54  HYPATIA. 

market-folk,  as  usual  in  Alexandria  then,  as  in  all  great 
cities  since,  who  were  staring  at  the  prefect,  and  having 
their  heads  rapped  by  his  guards,  and  wondering  what 
sort  of  glorious  personage  Hypatia  might  be,  and  what 
sort  of  glorious  house  she  must  live  in,  to  be  fit  com- 
pany for  the  great  governor  of  Alexandria.  Not  that 
there  was  not  many  a  sulky  and  lowering  face  among 
the  mob,  for  the  great  majority  of  them  were  Christians, 
and  very  seditious  and  turbulent  politicians,  as  Alexan- 
drians, "  men  of  Macedonia,"  were  bound  to  be  ;  and 
there  was  many  a  grumble  among  them,  all  but  audible, 
at  the  prefect's  going  in  state  to  the  heathen  woman's 
house  —  heathen  sorceress,  some  pious  old  women 
called  her  —  before  he  heard  any  poor  soul's  petition 
in  the  tribunal,  or  even  said  his  prayers  in  church. 

Just  as  he  was  stepping  into  his  curricle,  a  tall  young 
man,  as  gorgeously  bedizened  as  himself,  lounged  down 
the  steps  after  him,  and  beckoned  lazily  to  the  black 
boy  who  carried  his  parasol. 

"  Ah,  Raphael  Aben-Ezra !  my  excellent  friend, 
what  propitious  deity  —  ahem!  martyr  —  brings  you 
to  Alexandria  just  as  I  want  you  !  Get  up  by  my  side, 
and  let  us  have  a  chat  on  our  way  to  the  tribunal." 

/riie  man  addressed  came  slowly  forward  with  an 
ostentatiously  low  salutation,  which  could  not  hide,  and 
indeed  was  not  intended  to  hide,  the  contemptuous  and- 
lazy  expression  of  his  face  ;  and  asked,  in  a  drawling 
tone,  — 

"  And  for  what  kind  purpose  does  the  representa- 
tive of  the  Caesars  bestow  such  an  honor  on  the  hum- 
blest of  his,  &c.,  &c.  —  your  penetration  will  supply 
the  rest." 

"  Don't  be   frightened  ;    T  am   not  going  to  borrow 


THE    DVING    WORLD.  55 

money  of  you,"  answered  Orestes,  laughingly,  as  the 
Jew  got  into  the  curricle. 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it.  Really  one  usurer  in  a  family 
is  enough.  My  father  made  the  gold,  and  if  I_ spend  it, 
I  consider  that  I  do  all  that  is  required  of  a  philoso- 
pher." 

"  A  charming  team  of  white  Nisseans,  is  not  this  ? 
And  only  one  gray  hoof  among  all  the  four." 

"Yes  ....  horses  are  a  hore,  I  begin  to  find,  like 
every  thing  else.  Always  falling  sick,  or  running  away, 
or  breaking  one's  peace  of  mind  in  some  way  or  other. 
Besides,  I  have  been  pestered  out  of  my  life  there  in 
Cyrene,  by  commissions  for  dogs  and  horses  and  bows 
from  that  old  episcopal  Nimrod,  Synesius." 

"  What,  is  the  worthy  man  as  lively  as  ever  ?  " 
"  Lively  ?  He  nearly  di'ove  me  into  a  nervous  fever 
in  three  days.  Up  at  four  in  the  morning,  always  in 
the  most  disgustingly  good  health  and  spirits,  farming, 
coursing,  shooting,  riding  over  hedge  and  ditch  after 
rascally  black  robbers  ;  preaching,  intriguing,  borrow- 
ing money ;  baj)tizing  and  excommunicating  ;  bullying 
that  bully,  Andronicus  ;  comforting  old  women,  and 
giving  pretty  girls  dowries  ;  scribbling  one  half-hour  on 
philosophy,  and  the  next  on  farriery ;  sitting  up  all  night 
writing  hymns  and  drinking  strong  liquors;  olT again  on 
horseback  at  four  the  next  morning  ;  and  talking  by  the 
hour  all  the  while  about  philosophic  abstraction  from 
the  mundane  tempest.  Heaven  defend  me  from  all 
two-legged  whirlwinds  !  By  the  by,  there  was  a  fair 
daughter  of  my  nation  came  back  to  Alexandria  in  the 
same  ship  with  me,  with  a  cargo  that  may  suit  your 
highness." 

"  There  are  a  great  many  fair  daughters  of  your 
nation  who  might  suit  me,  without  any  cargo  at  all." 


56  HYPATIA. 

"Ah,  they  have  had  good  practice,  the  little  fools, 
ever  since  the  days  of  Jeroboam  the  son  of  Nebat. 
But  I  mean  old  Miriam, — you  know.  She  has  been 
lending  Synesius  money  to  fight  the  black  fellows  with  ; 
and  really  it  was  high  time.  They  had  burnt  every 
homestead  for  miles  through  the  province.  But  the 
daring  old  girl  must  do  a  little  business  for  herself; 
so  she  went  off,  in  the  teeth  of  the  barbarians,  right 
away  to  the  Atlas,  bought  all  their  lady  prisoners,  and 
some  of  their  own  sons  and  daughters,  too,  of  them, 
for  beads  and  old  iron;  and  has  come  back  with  as 
pretty  a  cargo  of  Libyan  beauties  as  a  prefect  of  good 
taste  could  wish  to  have  the  first  choice  of.  You  may 
thank  me  for  that  privilege." 

"  After,  of  course,  you  had  suited  3'ourself,  my  cun- 
ning Raphael  ?  " 

"  Not  I.  Women  are  bores,  as  Solomon  found  out 
long  ago.  Did  I  never  tell  you  ?  I  began,  as  he  did, 
with  the  most  select  harem  in  Alexandria.  But  they 
quarrelled  so,  that  one  day  I  went  out,  and  sold  them 
all  but  one,  who  was  a  Jewess,  —  so  there  were  ob- 
jections on  the  part  of  the  Rabbis.  Then  I  tried  one, 
as  Solomon  did  ;  but  my  '  garden  shut  up'  and  my 
'sealed  fountain'  wanted  me  to  be  always  in  love  with 
her,  so  I  went  to  the  lawyers,  allowed  her  a  comfort- 
able maintenance,  and  now  I  am  as  free  as  a  monk, 
and  shall  be  happy  to  give  your  excellency  the  benefit 
of  any  good  taste  or  experience  .which  I  may  possess." 

"  Thanks,  worthy  Jew.  We  are  not  yet  as  exalted 
as  yourself,  and  will  send  for  the  old  Erictho  this  very 
afternoon'.  Now  listen  a  moment  to  base,  earthly,  and 
political  business.  Cyril  has  written  to  me,  to  say  that 
you  Jews  have  plotted  to  murder  all  the  Christians." 


THE    DYING  WORLD.  57 

"Well,  —  why  not?  I  most  heartily  wish  it  were 
true,  and  think,  on  the  whole,  that  it  very  probably  is 
so." 

"  By  the  immortal  —  saints,  man  !  you  are  not  seri- 
ous ?  " 

"  The  four  archangels  forbid  !  It  is  no  concern  of 
mine.  All  I  say  is,  that  my  people  are  great  fools, 
like  the  rest  of  the  world ;  and  have,  for  aught  I  know 
or  care,  some  such  intention.  They  wont  succeed,  of 
course  ;  and  that  is  all  you  have  to  care  for.  But  if 
you  think  it  worth  the  trouble,  —  which  I  do  not,  —  I 
shall  have  to  go  to  the  synagogue  on  business  in  a  week 
or  so,  and  then  I  would  ask  some  of  the  Rabbis." 

"  Laziest  of  men  !  —  and  I  must  answer  Cyril  this 
very  day." 

"  An  additional  reason  for  asking  no  questions  of  our 
people.  Now  you  can  honestly  say  that  you  know 
nothing  about  the  matter." 

"  Well,  after  all,  ignorance  is  a  stronghold  for  poor 
statesmen.     So  you  need  not  hurry  yourself." 

"  I  assure  your  excellency  I  will  not." 

"  Ten  days  hence,  or  so,  you  know." 

"  Exactly,  after  it  is  all  over." 

"  And  can't  be  helped.  What  a  comfort  it  is,  now 
and  then,  that  Can't  be  helped  !  " 

"  It  is  the  root  and  marrow  of  all  philosophy.  Your 
practical  man,  poor  wretch,  will  try  to  help  this  and 
that,  and  torment  his  soul  with  ways  and  means,  and 
preventives  and  forestallings  :  your  philosopher  quietly 
says,  —  It  can't  be  helped.  If  it  ought  to  be,  it  will 
be  :  if  it  is,  it  ought  to  be.  We  did  not  make  the  world, 
and  we  are  not  responsible  for  it.  —  There  is  the  sum 
and  substance  of  all  true  wisdom,  and  the  epitome  of 

VOL.   I.  5 


58  HYPATIA. 

all  that  has  been  said  and  written  thereon,  from  Philo 
the  Jew  to  Hypatia  the  Gentile.  By  the  way,  here  's 
Cyril  coming  fJown  the  steps  of  the  Cajsareum.  A 
very  handsome  fellow,  after  all,  though  he  is  looking  as 
sulky  as  a  bear." 

"  With  his  cubs  at  his  heels.  What  a  scoundrelly 
visage  that  tall  fellow  —  deacon,  or  reader,  or  whatever 
he  is  by  his  dress  —  has." 

"  There  they  are  —  whispering  together.  Heaven 
give  them  pleasant  thoughts  and  pleasanter  faces  !  " 

"  Amen !  "  quoth  Orestes,  with  a  sneer  :  and  he 
would  have  said  Amen  in  good  earnest,  had  he  been 
able  to  take  the  liberty  —  which  we  shall  —  and  listen 
to  Cyril's  answer  to  Peter,  the  tall  reader. 

"  From  Hypatia's,  you  say  ?  Why,  he  only  returned 
to  the  city  this  morning." 

"  I  saw  his  four-in-hand  standing  at  her  door,  as  I 
came  down  the  Museum  Street  hither,  half  an  hour 
ago." 

"  And  twenty  carriages  besides,  I  don't  doubt  ?  " 

"  The  street  was  blocked  up  with  them.  There ! 
Look  round  the  corner  now.  —  Chariots,  litters,  slaves, 
and  fops.  —  When  shall  we  see  such  a  concourse  as 
that  where  it  ought  to  be  ?  " 

Cyril  made  no  answer  ;  and  Peter  went  on,  —  "  Where 
it  ought  to  be,  my  father, —  in  front  of  your  door  at  the 
Serapeium  ?  " 

"  The  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  Devil  know  their  own, 
Peter  :  and  as  long  as  they  have  their  own  to  go  to,  we 
cannot  expect  them  to  come  to  us." 

"  But  what  if  their  own  were  taken  out  of  the  way  !  " 

"  They  might  come  to  us  for  want  of  better  amuse- 
ment ....  Devil  and   all.     Well  —  if  I  could  get  a 


THE    DYING    WORLD.  59 

fair  hold  of  the  two  first,  I  would  take  the  third  into  the 
bargain,  and  see  what  could  be  done  with  him.  But 
never,  while  these  lecture-rooms  last,  these  Egyptian 
chambers  of  imagery,  these  theatres  of  Satan,  where 
the  Devil  transforms  himself  into  an  angel  of  light,  and 
apes  Christian  virtue,  and  bedizens  his  ministers  like 
ministers  of  righteousness,  as  long  as  that  lecture-room 
stands,  and  the  great  and  the  powerful  flock  to  it,  to 
learn  excuses  for  their  own  tyrannies  and  atheisms,  so 
long  will  the  kingdom  of  God  be  trampled  under  foot  in 
Alexandria  ;  so  long  will  the  princes  of  this  world,  with 
their  gladiators,  and  parasites,  and  money-lenders,  be 
masters  here,  and  not  the  bishops  and  priests  of  the 
living  God." 

It  was  now  Peter's  turn  to  be  silent ;  and  as  the  two, 
with  their  little  knot  of  district-visitors  behind  them, 
walk  moodily  along  the  great  esplanade  w^hich  over- 
looked the  harbor,  and  then  vanish  suddenly  up  some 
dingy  alley  into  the  crowded  misery  of  the  sailors' 
quarter,  we  will  leave  them  to  go  about  their  errand  of 
mercy,  and,  like  fashionable  people,  keep  to  the  grand 
parade,  and  listen  again  to  our  two  fashionable  friends 
in  the  carved  and  gilded  curricle  with  four  white  blood- 
horses. 

"  A  fine  sparkling  breeze  outside  the  Pharos,  Raphael, 
—  fair  for  the  wheat-ships,  too." 

"  Are  they  gone  yet  ?  " 

"  Yes,  —  why  ?  I  sent  the  first  fleet  off  three  days 
ago  ;  and  the  rest  are  clearing  outwards  to-day." 

"  Oh  —  ah  —  so  !  —  Then  you  have  not  heard  from 
Heraclian  ?  " 

"  Heraclian  ?  What  the  —  blessed  saints  has  the 
Count  of  Africa  to  do  with  my  wheat-ships  ?  " 


60  HYPATIA. 

"  O,  nothing.  It 's  no  business  of  mine.  Only  he  is 
goinj?  to  rebel But  here  we  are  at  your  door." 

"  To  what  ?  "  asked  Orestes,  in  a  horrified  tone. 

'*  To  rebel,  and  attack  Rome." 

"  Good  gods  —  God  I  mean  !  A  fresh  bore  !  Come 
in,  and  tell  a  poor  miserable  slave  of  a  governor  — 
speak  low,  fur  heaven's  sake  !  —  I  hope  these  rascally 
grooms  have  n't  overheard  you." 

"Easy  to  throw  them  into  the  canal,  if  they  have," 
quoth  Raphael,  as  he  walked  coolly  through  hall  and 
corridor  after  the  perturbed  governor. 

Poor  Orestes  never  stopped  till  he  reached  a  little 
chamber  of  the  inner  court,  beckoned  the  Jew  in  after 
him,  locked  the  door,  threw  himself  into  an  arm-chair, 
put  his  hands  on  his  knees,  and  sat,  bending  forward, 
staring  into  Raphael's  face  with  a  ludicrous  terror  and 
perplexity. 

"  Tell  me  all  about  it.     Tell  me  this  instant !  " 

"  I  have  told  you  all  1  know,"  quoth  Raphael,  quietly 
seating  himself  on  a  sofa,  and  playing  with  a  jewelled 
dagger.  "  I  thought,  of  course,  that  you  were  in  the 
secret,  or  I  should  have  said  nothing.  It 's  no  business 
of  mine,  you  know." 

Orestes,  like  most  weak  and  luxurious  men,  Romans 
especially,  had  a  wild-beast  vein  in  him,  —  and  it  burst 
forth. 

"  Hell  and  the  furies  !  You  insolent  provincial  slave, 
you  will  carry  these  liberties  of  yours  too  far  !  Do 
you  know  who  I  am,  you  accursed  Jew  !  Tell  me  the 
whole  truth,  or,  by  the  head  of  the  emperor,  I  '11  twist 
it  out  of  you  with  red-hot  pincers  !  " 

Raphael's  countenance  assumed  a  dogged  expression, 
which  showed  that  the  old  Jewish  blood  still  beat  true, 


THE    DYING    WORLD.  61 

under  all  its  affected  shell  of  Neo-Platonist  nonchalance  ; 
and  there  was  a  quiet,  unpleasant  earnest  in  his  smile, 
as  he  answered, — 

"  Then,  my  dear  governor,  you  will  be  the  first  man 
on  earth  who  ever  yet  forced  a  Jew  to  say  or  do  what 
he  did  not  choose." 

"  We  '11  see  !  "  veiled  Orestes.  "  Here,  slaves  !  " 
And  he  clapped  his  hands  loudly. 

"  Calm  yourself,  your  excellency,"  quoth  Raphael, 
rising.  "  The  door  is  locked  ;  the  mosquito  net  is 
across  the  window  ;  and  this  dagger  is  poisoned.  If 
any  thing  happens  to  me,  you  will  offend  all  the  Jew 
money-lenders,  and  die  in  about  three  days  in  a  great 
deal  of  pain,  having  missed  our  assignation  with  old 
Miriam,  lost  your  pleasantest  companion,  and  left  your 
own  finances  and  those  of  the  prefecture  in  a  consider- 
able state  of  embarrassment.  How  much  better  to  sit 
down,' hear  all  I  have  to  say  philosophically,  like  a  true 
pupil  of  Hypatia,  and  not  expect  a  man  to  tell  you 
what  he  really  does  not  know." 

Orestes,  after  looking  vainly  round  the  room  for  a 
place  to  escape,  had  quietly  subsided  into  his  chair 
again  ;  and  by  the  time  that  the  slaves  knocked  at  the 
door,  he  had  so  far  recovered  his  philosophy  as  to  ask, 
not  for  the  torturers,  but  for  a  page  and  vvine. 

"  O  you  Jews !  "  quoth  he,  trying  to  laugh  off  mat- 
ters. "  The  same  incarnate  fiends  that  Titus  found 
you  !  " 

"  The  very  same,  my  dear  prefect.  Now  for  this 
matter,  which  is  really  important,  —  at  least  to  Gen- 
tiles. Heraclian  will  certainly  rebel.  Synesius  let  out 
as  much  to  me.  He  has  fitted  out  an  armament  for 
Ostia,  stopped   his  own  wheat-ships,  and  is   going  to 


62  HYPATIA. 

write  to  you  to  stop  yours,  and  to  starve  out  the  Eternal 
City,  Goths,  senate,  emperor,  and  all.  Whether  you 
will  comply  with  his  reasonable  little  request  depends 
of  course  on  yourself." 

"  And  that,  again,  very  much  on  his  plans." 

"  Of  course.  You  cannot  be  expected  to  —  we  will 
euphemizc  —  unless  it  be  made  worth  your  while." 

Orestes  sat  buried  in  deep  thought. 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  he  at  last,  half  unconsciously. 
And  then,  in  sudden  dread  of  having  committed  himself, 
he  looked  up  fiercely  at  the  Jew. 

"  And  how  do  I  know  that  this  is  not  some  infernal 
trap  of  yours  ?  Tell  me  how  you  found  out  all  this, 
or  by  Hercules  (he  had  quite  forgotten  his  Christianity 
by  this  time)  —  by  Hercules  and  the  Twelve  Gods, 
I  '11 " 

"  Don't  use  expressions  unworthy  of  a  philosopher. 
My  source  of  information  was  very  simple  and  very 
good.  He  has  been  negotiating  a  loan  from  the  Rabbis 
at  Carthage.  They  were  either  frightened,  or  loyal,  or 
both,  and  hung  back.  He  knew  —  as  all  wise  govern- 
ors know  when  they  allow  themselves  time  —  that  it  is 
no  use  to  hull}'  a  Jew;  and  applied  to  me.  I  never 
lend  money, —  it  is  unphilosophical  :  but  I  introduced 
him  to  old  Miriam,  who  dare  do  business  with  the  Devil 
himself;  and  by  that  move,  whether  he  has  the  money 
or  not,  1  cannot  tell :  but  this  I  can  tell,  that  we  have 
his  secret,  —  and  so  have  you  now  ;  and  if  you  want 
more  information,  the  old  woman,  who  enjoys  an  in- 
trigue as  much  as  she  does  Falernian,  will  give  it  you." 

"  Well,  you  are  a  true  friend,  after  all." 

"  Of  course  I  am.  Now,  is  not  this  method  of  get- 
ting at  the  truth  much  easier  and  pleasanter  than  setting 


THE    DYING    WORLD.  63 

a  couple  of  dirty  negroes  to  pinch  and  pull  me,  and  so 
making  it  a  point  of  honor  with  me  to  tell  you  nothing 
but  lies  ?  Here  comes  Ganymede  with  the  wine,  just 
in  time  to  calm  your  nerves,  and  fill  you  with  the  spirit 

of  divination To  the  goddess  of  good  counsels, 

my  lord  ?     What  wine  this  is  !  " 

"  True  Syrian, —  fire  and  honey  ;  fourteen  years  old 
next  vintage,  my  Raphael.  Out,  Elypocorisma  !  See 
that  he  is  not  listening.  The  impudent  rascal !  I  was 
humbugged  into  giving  two  thousand  gold  pieces  for 
him  two  years  ago,  he  was  so  pretty,  —  they  said  he 
was  only  just  rising  thirteen,  —  and  he  has  been  the 
plague  of  my  life  ever  since,  and  is  beginning  to  want 
the  barber  already.  Now,  what  is  the  count  dreaming 
of  ?  " 

"  His  wages  for  killing  Stllicho." 
"  What,  is  it  not  enough  to  be  Count  of  Africa  ?  " 
"  I  suppose  he  sets  ofl'  against  that  his  services  during 
the  last  three  years." 

"  Well,  he  saved  Africa." 

"  And  thereby  Egypt  also.  And  you,  too,  as  well 
as  the  emperor,  may  be  considered  as  owing  him  some- 
what." 

"  My  good  friend,  my  debts  are  far  too  numerous  for 
me  to  think  of  paying  any  of  them.     But  what  wages 
does  he  want  ?  " 
"  The  purple." 

Orestes  started,  and  then  fell  into  thought.  Raphael 
sat  watching  him  awhile. 

"  Now,  most  noble  lord,  may  I  depart  >  I  have  said 
all  I  have  to  say  ;  and  unless  I  get  home  to  luncheon  at 
once,  I  shall  hardly  have  time  to  find  old  Miriam  for 
you,  and  get  through  our  little  affair  with  her  before 
sunset." 


64  HYPATIA. 

«  Stay.     What  force  has  he  ?  " 

"  Forty  thousand  already,  they  say.  And  those  Do- 
natist  ruffians  are  with  him  to  a  man,  if  he  can  hut 
scrape  together  wherewith  to  change  their  bludgeons 
into  good  steel." 

"  Well,  go So.     A  hundred  thousand  might 

do  it,"  said  he,  meditating,  as  Raphael  bowed  himself 
out.  "  He  won't  get  them.  I  don't  know,  though  ;  the 
man  has  the  head  of  a  Julius.  Well,  —  that  fool  Atta- 
ins talked  of  joining  Egypt  to  the  Western  Empire. 
....  Not  such  a  bad  thought  cither.  Any  thing  is 
better  than  being  governed  by  an  idiot  child  and  three 
canting  nuns.     I  expect  to  be  excommunicated  every 

day  for  some  offence  against  Pulclieria's  prudery 

Heraclian  emperor  at  Rome  ....  and  I  lord  and  master 
on  this  side  the  sea  ....  the  Donatisfs  pitted  again 
fairly  against  the  orthodox,  to  cut  each  other's  throats 
in  peace  ....  no  more  of  Cyril's  spying  and  tale-bear- 
ing to  Constantinople Not  such  a  bad  dish  of  fare. 

....  But  then  —  it  would  take  so  much  trouble  !  " 

With  which  words  Orestes  went  into  his  third  warm 
bath  for  that  day. 


65 


CHAPTER    III. 


THE    GOTHS. 


For  two  days  the  young  monk  held  on,  paddling  and 
floating  rapidly  down  the  Nile-stream,  leaving  city  after 
city  to  right  and  left  with  longing  eyes,  and  looking 
back  to  one  villa  after  another,  till  the  reaches  of  the 
banks  hid  them  from  his  sight,  with  many  a  yearning 
to  know  what  sort  of  places  those  gay  buildings  and 
gardens  would  look  like  on  a  nearer  view,  and  what 
sort  of  life  the  thousands  led  who  crowded  the  busy 
quays,  and  walked  and  drove,  in  an  endless  stream, 
along  the  great  high-roads  which  ran  along  either  bank. 
He  carefully  avoided  every  boat  that  passed  him,  from 
the  gilded  barge  of  the  wealthy  landlord  or  merchant,  to 
the  tiny  raft  buoyed  up  with  empty  jars,  which  was 
floating  down  to  be  sold  at  some  market  in  the  Delta. 
Here  and  there  he  met  and  hailed  a  crew  of  monks, 
drawing  their  nets  in  a  quiet  bay,  or  passing  along  the 
great  watery  highway  from  monastery  to  monastery  : 
but  all  the  news  he  received  from  them  was,  that  the 
canal  of  Alexandria  was  still  several  days'  journey  be- 
low him.  It  seemed  endless,  that  monotonous  vista  of 
the  two  high  clay  banks,  with  their  sluices  and  water- 


66  HYPATIA. 

wheels,  their  knots  of  pahns  and  date-trees ;  endless 
seemed  that  wearisome  succession  of  bars  of  sand  and 
banks  of  mud,  every  one  like  the  one  before  it,  every 
one  dotted  with  the  same  line  of  logs  and  stones  strewn 
along  the  water's  edge,  which  turned  out,  as  he  ap- 
proached them,  to  be  basking  crocodiles  and  sleeping 
pelicans.  His  eye,  wearied  with  the  continual  confine- 
ment and  want  of  distance,  longed  for  the  boundless 
expanse  of  the  desert,  for  the  jagged  outlines  of  those 
far-off  hills,  which  he  had  watched  from  boyhood  rising 
mysteriously  at  morn  out  of  the  eastern  sky,  and  melt- 
ing mysteriously  into  it  again  at  even,  beyond  which 
dwelt  a  whole  world  of  wonders,  elephants  and  dragons, 
satyrs  and  anthropophagi,  —  ay,  and  the  phoenix  itself. 
Tired  and  melancholy,  his  mind  returned  inward  to 
prey  on  itself,  and  the  last  words  of  Arsenius  rose  again 
and  again  to  his  thoughts.  "  Was  his  call  of  the  spirit 
or  of  the  flesh  ?  "  How  should  he  test  that  problem  ? 
He  wished  to  see  the  world  ....  that  might  be  carnal. 
True  ;  but  he  wished  to  convert  the  world  ....  was  not 
that  spiritual  ?  Was  he  not  going  on  a  noble  errand  ? 
....  thirsting  for  toil,  for  saintship,  for  martyrdom  it- 
self, if  it  would  but  come  and  cut  the  Gordian  knot  of 
all  temptations,  and  save  him  —  for  he  dimly  fait  that  it 
would  save  him  — a  whole  sea  of  trouble  in  getting  safe 
and  triumphant  out  of  that  world  into  which  he  had  not 
yet  entered  ....  and  his  heart  shrunk  back  from  the 
untried,  homeless  wilderness  before  him.  But  no  !  the 
die  was  cast,  and  he  must  down  and  onward,  whether 
in  obedience  to  the  spirit  or  the  flesh.  O  for  one  hour 
of  tlie  quiet  of  that  dear  Laura  and  the  old  familiar 
faces  ! 

At  last,  a  sudden  turn  of  the  bank  brought  him  in 


THE    GOTHS.  67 

sight  of  a  gaudily  painted  barge,  on  board  of  which 
armed  men,  in  uncouth  and  foreign  dresses,  were  chas- 
ing with  barbaric  shouts  some  large  object  in  the  water. 
In  the  bows  stood  a  man  of  gigantic  stature,  brandishing 
a  harpoon  in  his  right,  and  in  his  left  holding  the  line 
of  a  second,  the  head  of  which  was  fixed  in  the  huge 
purple  sides  of  a  hippopotamus,  who  foamed  and  wal- 
lowed a  few  yards  down  the  stream.  An  old  grizzled 
warrior  at  the  stern,  with  a  rudder  in  either  hand, 
kept  the  boat's  head  continually  towards  the  monster,  in 
spite  of  its  sudden  and  frantic  wheelings  ;  and  when  it 
dashed  madly  across  the  stream,  some  twenty  oars 
flashed  through  the  water  in  pursuit.  All  was  activity 
and  excitement ;  and  it  was  no  wonder  if  Philammon's 
curiosity  had  tempted  him  to  drift  down  almost  abreast 
of  the  barge,  ere  he  descried,  peeping  from  under  a 
decorated  awning  in  the  after-part,  some  dozen  pair 
of  languishing  black  eyes,  turned  alternately  to  the 
game  and  to  himself.  The  serpents  !  —  chattering  and 
smiling,  with  pretty  little  shrieks,  and  shaking  of  glossy 
curls  and  gold  necklaces,  and  fluttering  of  muslin 
dresses,  within  a  dozen  yards  of  him  !  Blushing  scarlet, 
he  knew  not  why,  he  seized  his  paddle,  and  tried  to 
back  out  of  the  snare  ....  but  somehow,  his  very 
efforts  to  escape  those  sparkling  eyes  diverted  his  at- 
tention from  every  thing  else  :  the  luppopotamus  had 
caught  sight  of  him,  and,  furious  with  pain,  rushed 
straight  at  the  unoffending  canoe  ;  the  harpoon-line 
became  entangled  round  his  body,  and  in  a  moment  he 
and  his  fi-ail  bark  were  overturned,  and  the  monster, 
with  his  huge  white  tusks  gaping  wide,  close  on  him  as 
he  struggled  in  the  stream. 

Luckily,  Philammon,  contrary  to  the  wont  of  monks, 


68 


HYPATIA. 


was  a  bather,  and  swam  like  a  water-fowl  :  fear  he  had 
never  known  :  death  from  childhood  had  been  to  him, 
as  to  the  other  inmates  of  the  Laura,  a  contemplation 
too  perpetual  to  have  any  paralyzing  terror  in  it,  even 
then,  when  life  seemed  just  about  to  open  on  him  anew. 
But  the  monk  was  a  man,  and  a  young  one,  and  had  no 
intention  of  dying  tamely  or  imavenged.  In  an  instant 
he  had  freed  himself  from  the  line,  drawn  the  short 
knife,  which  was  his  only  weapon,  and  diving  suddenly, 
avoided  the  monster's  rush,  and  attacked  him  from  be- 
hind with  stabs,  which,  though  not  deep,  still  dyed  the 
waters  with  gore  at  every  stroke.  The  barbarians 
shouted  with  delight.  The  hippopotamus  turned  furi- 
ously against  his  new  assailant,  crushing,  alas  !  the 
empty  canoe  to  fragments  with  a  single  snap  of  his 
enormous  jaws ;  but  the  turn  was  fatal  to  him  ;  the 
barge  was  close  upon  him,  and,  as  he  presented  his 
broad  side  to  the  blow,  the  sinewy  arm  of  the  giant 
drove  a  harpoon  through  his  heart,  and  with  one  con- 
vulsive shudder  the  huge  blue  mass  turned  over  on  its 
side  and  floated  dead. 

Poor  Philammon  !  He  alone  was  silent,  amid  the 
yells  of  triumph  ;  sorrowfully  he  swam  round  and  round 
his  little  paper  wreck  ....  it  would  not  have  floated  a 
mouse.  Wistfully  he  eyed  the  distant  banks,  half- 
minded  to  strike  out  for  them  and  escape,  ....  and 
thought  of  the  crocodiles,  .  .  .  and  paddled  round  again, 
and  thought  of  the  basilisk  eyes ;  ....  he  might  escape 
the  crocodiles,  but  who  could  escape  women  ?  .  .  .  . 
and  he  struck  out  valiantly  for  shore  ....  when  he  was 
brought  to  a  sudden  stop  by  fuiding  the  stem  of  the 
barge  close  on  him,  a  noose  thrown  over  him  by  some 
friendly  barbarian,  and  himself  hauled  on  board,  amid 


THE    GOTHS.  69 

the  laughter,  praise,  astonishment,  and  grumbling  of 
the  good-natured  crew,  who  had  expected  him,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  to  avail  himself  at  once  of  their  help, 
and  could  not  conceive  the  cause  of  his  reluctance. 

Philammon  gazed  with  wonder  on  his  strange  hosts, 
their  pale  complexions,  globular  heads  and  faces,  high 
cheek-bones,  tall  and  sturdy  figures ;  their  red  beards, 
and  yellow  hair  knotted  fantastically  above  the  head  ; 
their  awkward  dresses,  half  Roman  or  Egyptian,  and 
half  of  foreign  fur,  soiled  and  stained  in  many  a  storm 
and  fight,  but  tastelessly  bedizened  with  classic  jewels, 
brooches,  and  Roman  coins,  strung  like  necklaces. 
Only  the  steersman,  who  bad  come  forward  to  wonder 
at  the  hippopotamus,  and  to  help  in  dragging  the  un- 
wieldy brute  on  board,  seemed  to  keep  genuine  and  un- 
ornamented  the  costume  of  his  race,  the  white  linen 
leggings,  strapped  with  thongs  of  deerskin,  the  quilted 
leather  cuirass,  the  bear's  fur  cloak,  the  only  ornaments 
of  which  were  the  fangs  and  claws  of  the  beast  itself, 
and  a  fringe  of  grizzled  tufts,  which  looked  but  too  like 
human  hair.  The  language  which  they  spoke  .was  ut- 
terly unintelligible  to  Philammon,  though  it  need  not  be 
so  to  us. 

"  A  well-grown  lad  and  a  brave  one,  Wulf  the  son 
of  Ovida,"  said  the  giant  to  the  old  hero  of  the  bearskin 
cloak  ;  "  and  understands  wearing  skins,  in  this  furnace- 
mouth  of  a  climate,  rather  better  than  you  do." 

"  I  keep  to  the  dress  of  my  forefathers,  Amalric  the 
Amal.  What  did  to  sack  Rome  in,  may  do  to  find 
Asgard  in." 

The  giant,  who  was  decked  out  with  helmet,  cuirass, 
and  senatorial  boots,  in  a  sort  of  mongrel  mixture  of  the 
Roman  military  and  civil  dress,  his  neck  wreathed  with 


70  HYPATIA. 

a  dozen  gold  cliains,  and  every  finger  sparkling  with 
jewels,  turned  away  with  an  impatient  sneer. 

"  Asgard,  —  Asgard  ?  If  you  are  in  such  a  hurry  to 
get  to  Asgard  up  this  ditch  in  the  sand,  you  had  better 
ask  the  fellow  how  far  it  is  thither." 

Wulf  took  him  quietly  at  his  word,  and  addressed  a 
question  to  the  young  monk,  which  he  could  only  an- 
swer by  a  shake  of  the  head. 

"  Ask  him  in  Greek,  man." 

"  Greek  is  a  slave's  tongue.  Make  a  slave  talk  to 
him  in  it,  not  me." 

"  Here,  some  of  you  girls !  Pelagia !  you  understand 
this  fellow's  talk.     Ask  him  how  far  it  is  to  Asgard." 

"  You  must  ask  me  more  civilly,  my  rough  hero," 
replied  a  soft  voice  from  underneath  the  awning. 
"  Beauty  must  be  sued,  and  not  commanded." 

"  Come,  then,  my  olive-tree,  my  gazelle,  my  lotus- 
flower,  my  —  what  was  the  last  nonsense  you  taught 
me  ?  —  and  ask  this  wild  man  of  the  sands  how  far  it  is 
from  these  accursed  endless  rabbit-burrows  to  Asgard." 

The  awning  was  raised,  and,  lying  luxuriously  on  a 
soft  mattress,  fanned  with  peacock's  feathers,  and  glit- 
tering with  rubies  and  topazes,  appeared  such  a  vision 
as  Philammon  had  never  seen  before. 

A  woman  of  some  two  and  twenty  summers,  formed 
in  the  most  voluptuous  mould  of  Grecian  beauty,  whose 
complexion  showed  every  violet  vein  through  its  veil  of 
luscious  brown.  Her  little  bare  feet,  as  they  dimpled 
the  cushions,  were  more  perfect  than  Aphrodite's,  softer 
than  a  swan's  bosom.  Every  swell  of  her  bust  and 
arms  showed  through  the  thin  gauze  robe,  while  her 
lower  limbs  were  wrapt  in  a  shawl  of  orange  silk,  em- 
broidered with  wreaths  of  shells  and  roses.     Her  dark 


THE    GOTHS.'  71 

hair  lay  carefully  spread  out  upon  the  pillow,  in  a  thou- 
sand ringlets  entwined  with  gold  and  jewels  ;  her  lan- 
guishing eyes  blazed  like  diamonds  from  a  cavern, 
under  eyelids  darkened  and  deepened  whh  black  anti- 
mony ;  her  lips  pouted  of  themselves,  by  habit  or  by 
nature,  into  a  perpetual  kiss ;  slowly  she  raised  one 
little  lazy  hand  ;  slowly  the  ripe  lips  opened  ;  and  in 
most  pure  and  melodious  Attic,  she  lisped  her  huge 
lover's  question  to  the  monk,  and  repeated  it  before  the 
boy  could  shake  off  the  spell,  and  answer  .... 

"  Asgard  ?     What  is  Asgard  ?  " 

The  beauty  looked  at  the  giant  for  further  instruc- 
tions. 

"  The  City  of  the  immortal  Gods,"  interposed  the 
old  warrior,  hastily  and  sternly,  to  the  lady. 

"The  city  of  God  is  in  heaven,"  said  Philammon  to 
the  interpreter,  turning  his  head  away  from  those 
gleaming,  luscious,  searching  glances. 

His  answer  was  received  with  a  general  laugh  by  all 
except  the  leader,  who  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  It  may  as  well  be  up  in  the  skies  as  up  the  Nile. 
We  shall  be  just  as  likely,  I  believe,  to  reach  it  by  fly- 
ing, as  by  rowing  up  this  big  ditch.  Ask  him  where 
the  river  comes  from,  Pelagia." 

Pelagia  obeyed,  ....  and  thereon  followed  a  con- 
fusion worse  confounded,  composed  of  all  the  impos- 
sible wopders  of  that  mythic  fairy-land  with  which 
Philammon  had  gorged  himself  from  boyhood  in  his 
walks  with  the  old  monks,  and  of  the  equally  trust- 
worthy traditions  which  the  Goths  had  picked  up  at 
Alexandria.  There  was  nothing  which  that  river  did 
not  do.  It  rose  in  the  Caucasus.  Where  was  the 
Caucasus  ?    He  did  not  know.    In  Paradise, —  in  Indian 


72  HYPATIA. 

Ethiopia,  —  in  Ethiopian  India.  Where  were  they? 
He  did  not  know.  Nobody  knew.  It  ran  for  a  hun- 
dred and  fifty  days'  journey  through  deserts  where 
nothing  but  flying  serpents  and  satyrs  lived,  and  the 
very  lions'  manes  were  burnt  off  by  the  heat 

"  Good  sporting  there,  at  all  events,  among  these 
dragons,"  quoth  Smid,  the  son  of  Troll,  armorer  to  the 
party. 

"  As  2ood  as  Thor's  when  he  caught  Snake  Midgard, 
with  the  bullock's  head,"  said  Wulf. 

It  turned  to  the  east  for  a  hundred  da5's'  journey 
more,  all  round  Arabia  and  India,  among  forests  full  of 
elephants  and  dog-headed  women. 

"  Better  and  better,  Smid  !  "  growled  Wulf,  approv- 
ingly. 

"  Fresh  beef  cheap  there,  Prince  Wulf,  eh  ?  "  quoth 
Smid  ;  "  I  must  look  over  the  arrow-heads." 

—  To  the  mountains  of  the  Hyperboreans,  where 
there  was  eternal  night,  and  the  air  was  full  of  feathers. 
....  That  is,  one  third  of  it  came  from  thence,  and 
another  third  came  from  the  Southern  Ocean,  over  the 
Moon  Mountains,  where  no  one  had  ever  been,  and  the 
remaining  third  from  the  country  where  the  phognix 
lived,  and  nobody  knew  where  that  was.  And  then 
there  were  the  cataracts,  and  the  inundations,  —  and  — 
and  —  and  above  the  cataracts,  nothing  but  sand-hills  and 
ruins,  as  full  of  devils  as  they  could  hold,  ....  and  as 
for  Asgard,  no  one  had  ever  heard  of  it,  .  ...  till  every 
face  grew  longer  and  longer,  as  Pelagia  went  on  inter- 
preting and  misinterpreting  ;  and  at  last  the  giant  smote 
his  hand  upon  his  knee,  and  swore  a  great  oath  that 
Asgard  might  rot  till  the  twilight  of  the  gods  before  he 
went  a  step  farther  up  the  Nile. 


THE    GOTHS.  73 

"  Curse  the  monk  ! "  growled  Wulf.     "  How  should 
such  a  poor  beast  know  any  thing  about  the  matter  ?  " 

"  Why  should  not  he  know  as  well  as  that  ape  of  a 
Roman  governor  ?  "  asked  Smid. 

"  O,  the  monks  know  every  thing,"  said  Pelagia. 
"  They  go  hundreds  and  thousands  of  miles  up  the 
river,  and  cross  the  deserts  among  fiends  and  monsters, 
where  any  one  else  would  be  eaten  up,  or  go  mad  at  once." 
"  Ah,  the  dear  holy  men  !  It 's  all  by  the  sign  of 
the  blessed  cross  !  "  exclaimed  all  the  girls  together, 
devoutly  crossing  themselves,  while  two  or  three  of  the 
most  enthusiastic  were  half-minded  to  go  forward  and 
kneel  to  Philammon  for  his  blessing ;  but  hesitated, 
their  Gothic  lovers  being  heathenishly  stupid  and  prud- 
ish on  such  points. 

"  Why  should  he  not  know  as  well  as  the  Prefect  ? 
Well  said,  Smid  !  I  believe  that  Prefect's  quill-driver 
was  humbugging  us  when  he  said  Asgard  was  only  ten 
days'  sail  up." 

"  Why  ?  "  asked  Wulf. 

"  I  never  give  any  reasons.  What 's  the  use  of  being 
an  Amal,  and  a  son  of  Odin,  if  one  has  always  to  be 
giving  reasons  like  a  rascally  Roman  lawyer  ?  I  say 
the  governor  looked  like  a  liar  ;  and  I  say  this  monk 
looks  like  an  honest  fellow  ;  and  I  choose  to  believe 
him,  and  there  's  an  end  of  it." 

"  Don't  look  so  cross  at  me.  Prince  Wulf ;  I  'm  sure 
it 's  not  my  fault ;  I  could  only  say  what  the  monk  told 
me,"  whispered  poor  Pelagia. 

"  Who  looks  cross  at  you,  my  queen  ?  "  roared  the 
Amal.     "  Let  me   have   him  out  here,  and  by  Thor's 

hammer,  I  '11 " 

"  Who  spoke  to  you,  you  stupid  darling  .?  "  answered 
VOL.   I.  6 


74  HYPATIA. 

Pelagia,  who  lived  in  hourly  fear  of  thunderstorms. 
"  Who  is  going  to  be  cross  with  any  one,  except  I  with 
you,  for  mishearing,  and  misunderstanding,  and  med- 
dling, as  you  are  always  doing  ?  I  shall  do  as  I  threat- 
ened, and  run  away  with  Prince  Wulf,  if  you  are  not 
good.  Don't  you  see  that  the  whole  crew  are  expecting 
you  to  make  them  an  oration  ?  " 

Whereupon  the  Amal  rose. 

"See  you  here,  Wulf,  the  son  of  Ovida,  and  warriors 
all !  If  we  want  wealth,  we  shu'n't  find  it  among  the 
sand-hills.  If  we  want  women,  we  shall  find  nothing 
prettier  than  these  among  dragons  and  devils.  Don't 
look  angry,  Wulf.  You  have  no  mind  to  marry  one  of 
those  dog-headed  girls  the  monk  talked  of,  have  you  .'* 
Well,  then,  we  have  money  and  women ;  and  if  we 
want  sport,  it 's  better  sport  killing  men  than  killing 
beasts ;  so  we  had  better  go  where  we  shall  find  most 
of  that  game,  which  we  certainly  shall  not  up  this  road. 
As  for  fame  and  all  that,  though  I  've  had  enough, 
there  's  plenty  to  be  got  anyyvhere  along  the  shores  of 
that  Mediterranean.  Let's  burn  and  plunder  Alexan- 
dria :  forty  of  us  Goths  might  kill  down  all  those  don- 
key-riders in  two  days,  and  hang  up  that  lying  Prefect 
who  sent  us  here  on  this  fool's  errand.  Don't  answer, 
Wulf.  I  knew  he  was  humbugging  us  all  along,  but 
you  were  so  open-mouthed  to  all  he  said,  that  I  was 
bound  to  let  my  elders  choose  for  mc.  Let 's  go  back  ; 
send  over  for  any  of  the  tribes  ;  send  to  Spain  for  those 
Vandals,  —  they  have  had  enough  of  Adolph  by  now, 
eurse  him!  —  I  '11  warrant  them  ;  get  together  an  army, 
and  take  Constantinople.  I  'II  be  Augustus,  and  Pela- 
gia, Augusta ;  you  and  Smid  here,  the  two  Caesars ; 
and  wc  '11  make  the  monk  the  chief  of  the  eunuchs, 


THE    GOTHS.  75 

eh  ?  —  any  thing  you  like  for  a  quiet  hfe  ;  but  up  this 
accursed  kennel  of  hot  water  I  go  no  farther.  Ask 
your  girls,  my  heroes,  and  I  'II  ask  mine.  Women  are 
all  prophetesses,  every  one  of  them." 

"  When  they  are  not  harlots,"  growled  Wulf  to  him- 
self. 

"  I  will  go  to  the  world's  end  with  you,  my  king  !  " 
sighed  Pelagia  ;  "  but  Alexandria  is  certainly  pleasanter 
than  this." 

Old  VVulf  sprang  up  fiercely  enough. 

"Hear  me,  Amalric  the  Amal,  son  of  Odin,  and 
heroes  all  !  When  mv  fathers  swore  to  be  Odin's 
men,  and  gave  up  the  ikingdom  to  the  holy  Amals,  the 
sons  of  the  ^sir,  what  was  the  bond  between  your 
fathers  and  mine  ?  Was  it  not  that  we  should  move 
and  move,  southward  and  southward  ever,  till  we  came 
back  to  Asgard,  the  city  where  Odin  dwells  for  ever, 
and  gave  into  his  hands  the  kingdom  of  all  the  earth  ? 
And  did  we  not  keep  our  oath  ?  Have  we  not  held  to 
the  Amals  ?  Did  we  not  leave  Adolph,  because  we 
would  not  follow  a  Balth,  while  there  was  an  Amal  to 
lead  us  ?  Have  we  not  been  true  men  to  you,  son  of 
the  ^sir .?  " 

"  No  man  ever  saw  Wulf,  the  son  of  Ovida,  fail 
friend  or  foe." 

"  Then  why  does  his  friend  fall  him  ?  Why  does 
his  friend  fail  himself  ?  If  the  bison-bull  lie  down  and 
wallow,  what  will  the  herd  do  for  leader  ?  If  the  kinor- 
wolf  lose  the  scent,  how  will  the  pack  hold  it  ?  If  the 
Yngling  forgets  the  song  of  Asgard,  who  will  sing  it  to 
the  heroes  ?  " 

"  Sing  it  yourself,  if  you  choose.  Pelagia  sings  quite 
well  enough  for  me." 


76  HYPATIA. 

In  an  instant  the  cunning  beauty  caught  at  the  hint, 
and  poured  forth  a  soft,  low,  sleepy  song:  — 

"Loose  the  sail,  rest  the  oar,  float  away  down, 

Fleeting  and  gliding  hy  tower  and  town  ; 
Life  is  so  short  at  he.st !  snatch,  while  tliou  canst,  thy  rest, 
Sleeping  by  me ! " 

"  Can  you  answer  that,  Wulf  ?  "  shouted  a  dozen 
voices. 

*'  Hear  the  song  of  Asgard,  warriors  of  the  Goths ! 
Did  not  Alaric  the  king  love  it  well  ?  Did  I  not  sing  it 
before  him  in  the  palace  of  the  Ca3sars,  till  he  swore, 
for  all  the  Christian  that  he  was,  to  go  southward  in 
search  of  the  holy  city  ?  And  when  he  went  to  Val- 
halla, and  the  ships  were  wrecked  off  Sicily,  and  Adolph 
the  Balth  turned  back  like  a  lazy  hound,  and  married 
the  daughter  of  the  Romans,  whom  Odin  hates,  and 
went  northward  again  to  Gaul,  did  not  I  sing  you  all  the 
song  of  Asgard  in  Messina  there,  till  you  swore  to  fol- 
low the  Amal  through  fire  and  water,  until  we  found 
the  hall  of  Odin,  and  received  the  mead-cup  from  his 
own  hand  ?     Hear  it  again,  warriors  of  the  Goths  !  " 

"  Not  that  song  !  "  roared  the  Amal,  stopping  his 
ears  with  both  his  hands.  "  Will  you  drive  us  blood- 
mad  again,  just  as  we  are  settling  down  into  our  sober 
senses,  and  finding  out  what  our  lives  were  given  us 
for  ?  " 

"  Hear  the  song  of  Asgard  !  On  to  Asgard,  wolves 
of  the  Goths  !  "  shouted  another ;  and  a  babel  of  voices 
arose. 

"  Have  n't  we  been  fighting  and  marching  these  seven 
years  ?  " 

"  Have  n't  we  drank  blood  enough  to  satisfy  Odin 
ten  times  over  ?  If  he  wants  us,  let  him  come  himself 
and  lead  us  !  " 


THE    GOTHS.  77 

"  Let  us  get  our  winds  again  before  we  start  afresh  !  " 

"  Wulf  the  Prince  is  like  his  name,  and  never  tires; 
he  has  a  winter-wolf's  legs  under  him  ;  that  is  no  rea- 
son why  we  should  have." 

"  Have  n't  you  heard  what  the  monk  says  ?  —  we 
can  never  get  over  those  cataracts." 

"  We  '11  stop  his  old-wives'  tales  for  him,  and  then 
settle  for  ourselves,"  said  Smid  ;  and  springing  from 
the  thwart  where  he  had  been  sitting,  he  caught  up  a 
bill  with  one  hand,  and  seized  Philammon's  throat  with 
the  other  ....  in  a  moment  more,  it  would  have  been 
all  over  with  him  .... 

For  the  first  time  in  his  life,  Philammon  felt  a  hostile 
gripe  upon  him,  and  a  new  sensation  rushed  through 
every  nerve,  as  he  grappled  with  the  warrior,  clutched 
with  his  left  hand  the  uplifted  wrist,  and  with  his  right 
the  girdle,  and  commenced,  without  any  definite  aim,  a 
fierce  .struggle,  which,  strange  to  say,  as  it  went  on, 
grew  absolutely  pleasant. 

The  women  shrieked  to  their  lovers  to  part  the  com- 
batants, but  in  vain. 

"  Not  for  worlds !  A  very  fair  match,  and  a  very 
fair  fight !  Take  your  long  legs  back,  Itho,  or  they 
will  be  over  you!  That's  right,  my  Smid,  don't  use 
the  knife  !  They  will  be  overboard  in  a  moment ! 
By  all  the  Valkyrs,  they  are  down  !  and  Smid  under- 
most !  " 

There  was  no  doubt  of  it;  and  in  another  moment 
Philammon  would  have  wrenched  the  bill  out  of  his  op- 
ponent's hand,  when,  to  the  utter  astonishment  of  the 
on-lookers,  he  suddenly  loosed  his  hold,  shook  himself 
free  by  one  powerful  wrench,  and  quietly  retreated  to 
his  seat,  conscience-stricken  at  the   fearful  thirst  for 


78  HYPATIA. 

blood  which  had  suddenly  boiled  up  within  liim  as  he 
felt  his  enemy  under  him. 

The  on-lookers  were  struck  dumb  with  astonishment ; 
they  had  taken  for  granted  that  he  would,  as  a  matter 
of  course,  have  used  his  right  of  splitting  his  vanquished 
opponent's  skull,  —  an  event  which  they  would  of 
course  have  deeply  deplored,  but  with  which,  as  nicn 
of  honor,  they  could  not  on  any  account  interfere,  but 
merely  console  themsclvee  for  the  loss  of  their  comrade 
by  flaying  his  conqueror  alive,  "  carving  him  into  the 
blood-eagle,"  or  any  other  delicate  ceremony  which 
might  serve  as  a  vent  for  their  sorrow  and  a  comfort  to 
the  soul  of  the  deceased. 

Smid  rose,  with  the  bill  in  his  hand,  and  looked 
round  him,  —  perhaps  to  see  what  was  expected  of  him. 

He  half  lifted  his  weapon   to  strike Philammon, 

seated,  looked   him  calmly  in  the  face The  old 

warrior's  eye  caught  the  bank,  which  was  now  reced- 
ing rapidly  past  them  ;  and  when  he  saw  that  they 
were  really  floating  downwards  again,  without  an  effort 
to  stem  the  stream,  he  put  away  his  bill,  and  sat  himself 
down  deliberately  in  his  place,  astonishing  the  on-look- 
ers quite  as  much  as  Philammon  had  done. 

"  Five  minutes'  good  fighting,  and  no  one  killed  ! 
This  is  a  shame  !  "  quoth  another.  "  Blood  we  must 
see,  and  it  had  better  be  yours,  master  monk,  than  your 
betters," — and  therewith  he  rushed  on  poor  Philam- 
mon. 

He  spoke  the  heart  of  the  crew  ;  the  sleeping  wolf 
in  them  had  been  awakened  by  the  struggle,  and  blood 
they  would  have ;  and  not  frantically,  like  Celts  or 
Egyptians,  but  with  the  cool,  humorous  cruelty  of  the 
Teuton,  they  rose  altogether,  and  turning  Philammon 


THE     GOTHS. 


79 


over  on  his  back,  deliberated  by  what  death  he  should 
die. 

Philammon  quietly  submitted,  —  if  submission  have 
any  thing  to  do  with  that  state  of  mind  in  which  sheer 
astonishment  and  novelty  have  broken  up  all  the  custom 
of  man's  nature,  till  the  strangest  deeds  and  sufferings 
are  taken  as  matters  of  course.  His  sudden  escape 
from  the  Laura,  the  new  world  of  thought  and  action 
into  which  he  had  been  plunged,  the  new  companions 
with  whom  he  had  fallen  in,  had  driven  him  utterly 
from  his  moorings,  and  now  any  thing  and  every  thing 
migh4liappen  to  him.  He  who  had  promised  never  to 
look  on  woman  found  himself,  by  circumstances  over 
which  he  had  no  control,  amid  a  boatful  of  the  most 
objectionable  species  of  that  most  objectionable  genus, 
—  and  the  utterly  worst  having  happened,  every  thing 
else  which  happened  must  be  better  than  the  worst. 
For  the  rest,  he  had  gone  forth  to  see  the  world, —  and 
this  was  one  of  the  ways  of  it.  So  he  made  up  his 
mind  to  see  it,  and  be  filled  with  the  fruit  of  his  own 
devices. 

And  he  would  have  been  certainly  filled  with  the 
same  in  five  minutes  more,  in  some  shape  too  ugly  to  be 
mentioned  :  but  as  even  sinful  women  have  hearts  in 
them,  Pelagia  shrieked  out, — 

"  Amalric  1  Amalric  !  do  not  let  them  !  I  cannot 
bear  it !  " 

"  The  warriors  are  free  men,  my  darling,  and  know 
what  is  proper.  And  what  can  the  life  of.  such  a  brute 
be  to  you  ?  " 

Before  he  could  stop  her,  Pelagia  had  sprung  from 
her  cushions,  and  thrown  herself  into  the  midst  of  the 
laughing  ring  of  wild  beasts. 


80  HYPATIA. 

"Spare  liim  !  Spare  him  for  my  sake  !"  shrieked 
she. 

"  O  my  pretty  lady  !  you  must  n't  interrupt  warriors' 
sport !  " 

In  an  instant  she  had  torn  off  her  sliawl,  and  thrown 
it  over  Philammon  ;  and  as  she  stood,  witli  all  the  out- 
lines of  her  beautiful  limbs  revealed  through  the  thin 
robe  of  spangled  gauze,  — 

"  Lot  the  man  who  dares,  touch  him  beneath  that 
shawl  !  —  thouffh  it  be  a  saffron  one  !  " 

The  Goths  drew  back.  For  Pelagia  herself  they  had 
as  little  respect  as  the  rest  of  the  world  had.  But  for  a 
moment  she  was  not  the  Messalina  of  Alexandria,  but  a 
woman  ;  and  true  to  the  old  woman-worshipping  in- 
stinct, they  looked  one  and  all  at  her  flashing  eyes,  full 
of  noble  pity  and  indignation,  as  well  as  of  mere 
woman's  terror,  —  and  drew  back,  and  whispered  to- 
gether. 

Whether  the  good  spirit  or  the  evil  one  would  con- 
quer seemed  for  a  moment  doubtful,  when  Pelagia  felt 
a  heavy  hand  on  her  shoulder,  and  turning,  saw  Wulf, 
the  son  of  Ovida. 

"  Go  back,  pretty  woman  !  Men,  I  claim  the  boy. 
Smid,  give  him  to  me.  He  is  your  man.  You  could 
have  killed  him  if  you  had  chosen,  and  did  not ;  and 
no  one  else  shall." 

"Give  him  us.  Prince  Wulf!  We  have  not  seen 
blood  for  many  a  day  !  " 

"  You  might  have  seen  rivers  of  it,  if  you  had  had 
the  hearts  to  go  onward.  The  boy  is  mine,  and  a  brave 
boy.  He  has  upset  a  warrior  fairly  this  day,  and  spared 
him  ;  and  we  will  make  a  warrior  of  him  in  return." 

And  he  lifted  up  the  prostrate  monk. 


THE    GOTHS.  81 

"  You  are  my  man  now.     Do  you  like  fighting  ?  " 

Philammon,  not  understanding  the  language  in  which 
he  was  addressed,  could  only  shake  his  head,  —  though, 
if  he  had  known  what  its  import  was,  he  could  hardly 
in  honesty  have  said.  No. 

"  He  shakes  his  head  !  He  does  not  like  it  !  He  is 
craven  !     Let  us  have  him  !  " 

"  I  had  killed  kings  when  you  were  shooting  frogs," 
cried  Smid.  "  Listen  to  me,  my  sons  !  A  coward  grips 
sharply  at  first,  and  loosens  his  hand  after  a  while,  be- 
cause his  blood  is  soon  hot  and  soon  cold.  A  brave 
man's  gripe  grows  the  firmer  the  longer  he  holds,  be- 
cause the  spirit  of  Odin  comes  upon  him.  I  watched 
the  boy's  hands  on  my  throat ;  and  he  will  make  a 
man  ;  and  I  will  make  him  one.  However,  we  may 
as  well  make  him  useful  at  once  ;  so  give  him  an  oar." 

"  Well,"  answered  his  new  protector,  "  he  can  as 
well  row  us  as  be  rowed  by  us  ;  and  if  we  are  to  go 
back  to  a  cow's  death  and  the  pool  of  Hela,  the  quicker 
we  go  the  better." 

And  as  the  men  settled  themselves  again  to  their 
oars,  one  was  put  into  Philammon's  hand,  which  he 
managed  with  such  strength  and  skill,  that  his  late  tor- 
mentors, who,  in  spite  of  an  occasional  inclination  to 
robbery  and  murder,  were  thoroughly  good-natured, 
honest  fellows,  clapped  him  on  the  back,  and  praised 
him  as  heartily  as  they  had  just  now  heartily  intended  to 
torture  him  to  death,  and  then  went  forward,  as  many 
of  them  as  were  not  rowing,  to  examine  the  strange 
beast  which  they  had  just  slaughtered,  pawing  him  over 
from  tusks  to  tail,  putting  their  heads  into  his  mouth, 
trying  their  knives  on  his  hide,  comparing  him  to  all 
beasts,  like  and  unlike,  which  they  had  ever  seen,  and 


82  HYPATIA. 

lausliinfi  and  shovins  each  other  about  with  the  fun  and 
childish  wonder  of  a  party  of  schoolboys  ;  till  Smid, 
who  was  the  wit  of  the  party,  settled  the  comparative 
anatomy  of  the  subject  for  them  :  — 

"  Valhalla  !  I  've  found  out  what  he  's  most  like  !  — 
One  of  those  big  blue  plums  which  gave  us  all  the 
stomach-ache  when  we  were  encamped  in  the  orchards 
above  Ravenna  !  " 


83 


CHAPTER    IV. 

MIRIAM. 

One  morning  in  the  same  week,  Hypatia's  favorite 
maid  entered  her  chamber  with  a  somewhat  terrified 
face. 

"  The  old  Jewess,  madam,  —  the  hag  who  has  been 
watching  so  often  lately  under  the  wall  opposite.  She 
frightened  us  all  out  of  our  senses  last  evening  by  peep- 
ing in.  We  all  said  she  had  the  evil  eye,  if  any  one 
ever  had "  * 

"  Well,  what  of  her  ?  " 

"  She  is  below,  madam,  and  will  speak  with  you. 
Not  that  I  care  for  her ;  I  have  my  amulet  on.  I  hope 
you  have  ?  " 

"  Silly  girl  !  Those  who  have  been  initiated  as  I 
have  in  the  mysteries  of  the  gods,  can  defy  spirits  and 
command  them.  Do  you  suppose  that  the  favorite  of 
Pallas  Athene  will  condescend  to  charms  and  magic  ? 
Send  her  up." 

The  girl  retreated,  with  a  look  half  of  awe,  half  of 
doubt  at  the  lofty  pretensions  of  her  misti-ess,  and  re- 
turned with  old  Miriam,  keeping,  however,  prudently 
behind  her,  in  order  to  test  as  little  as  possible  the  power 


84 


HYPATIA. 


of  her  own  amulet  by  avoiding  the  basilisk  eye  which 
had  terrified  her. 

Miriam  came  in,  and  advancing  to  the  proud  beauty, 
who  remained  seated,  made  an  obeisance  down  to  the 
very  floor,  without,  however,  taking  her  eyes  for  an 
instant  off  Ilypatia's  face. 

Her  countenance  was  haggard  and  bony,  with  broad, 
sharp-cut  lips,  stamped  with  a  strangely  mingled  ex- 
pression of  strength  and  sensuality.  But  the  feature 
about  her  which  instantly  fixed  Hypatia's  attention,  and 
from  which  she  could  not  in  spite  of  herself  withdraw 
it,  was  the  dry,  glittering,  coal-black  eye  which  glared 
out  from  underneath  the  gray  fringe  of  her  swarthy 
brows,  between  black  locks  covered  with  gold  coins. 
Hypatia  could  look  at  nothing  but  those  eyes ;  and  she 
reddened,  and  grew  all  but  unphilosophically  angry,  as 
she  saw  that  the  old  woman  intended  her  to  look  at 
them,  and  feel  the  strange  power  which  she  evidently 
wished  them  to  exercise. 

After  a  moment's  silence,  Miriam  drew  a  letter  from 
her  bosom,  and  with  a  second  low  obeisance  present- 
ed it. 

"  From  whom  is  this  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  the  letter  itself  will  tell  the  beautiful  lady, 
the  fortunate  lady,  the  discerning  lady,"  answered  she, 
in  a  fawning,  wheedling  tone.  "  How  should  a  poor 
old  Jewess  know  great  folk's  secrets  .?  " 

"  Great  folks  ?  " 

Hypatia  looked  at  the  seal  which  fixed  a  silk  cord 
round   the  letter.      It  was  Orestes'  ;   and  so  was  the 

handwriting Strange,  that  he  should  have  chosen 

such  a  messencrer  !     What  message  could  it  be  which 
required  such  secrecy .'' 


MIRIAM.  85 

She  clapped  her  hands  for  the  maid.  "  Let  this 
woman  wait  in  the  anteroom."  Miriam  glided  out 
backwards,  bowing  as  she  went.  As  Hypatia  looked 
up  over  the  letter  to  see  whether  she  was  alone,  she 
caught  a  last  glance  of  that  eye  still  fixed  upon  her, 
and  an  expression  in  Miriam's  face  which  made  her, 
she  knew  not  why,  shudder  and  turn  chill. 

"  Foolish  that  I  am  !  What  can  that  witch  be  to  me  ? 
But  now  for  the  letter." 

"  To  the  most  noble  and  most  beautiful,  the  mistress 
of  philosophy,  beloved  of  Athene,  her  pupil  and  slave 
sends  greeting."  .... 

"  My  slave  !  and  no  name  mentioned  !  " 
"  There  are  those  who  consider  that  the  favorite  hen 
of  Honorius,  which  bears  the  name  of  the  Imperial 
City,  would  thrive  better  undei  a  new  feeder;  and  the 
Count  of  Africa  has  been  despatched  by  himself  and  by 
the  immortal  gods  to  superintend   for  the   present  the 
poultry-yard  of  the  Csesars,  —  at   least  during  the  ab- 
sence of  Adolph  and  Placidia.     There  are  those  also 
who  consider  that  in  his  absence  the  Numidian  lion 
might  be  prevailed  on  to  become  the  yoke-fellow  of  the 
Egyptian  crocodile  ;  and  a  farm  which,  ploughed  by 
such  a  pair,  should  extend  from  the  upper  cataract  to 
the  pillars  of  Hercules,  might  have  charms  even  for  a 
philosopher.      But   while   the   ploughman  is  without  a 
nymph,  Arcadia  is  imperfect.      What  were   Dionusos 
without  his  Ariadne,  Ares  without  Aphrodite,  Zeus  with- 
out Here  ?     Even  Artemis  has  her  Endymion  ;  Athene 
alone  remains  unwedded  ;  but  only  because  Hephaestus 
was  too  rough  a  wooer.     Such  is  not  he  who  now  offers 
to  the  representative  of  Athene  the  opportunity  of  shar- 
ing that  which  may  be  with  the  help  of  her  wisdom, 


86  HYPATIA. 

which  without  her  is  impossible.  ^covnvra  crvvtToia-iv. 
Shall  Eros,  invincible  for  ages,  be  balked  at  last  of 
the    noblest   game    against    which    he    ever   drew    his 

bow  ?  " 

If  Ilypatia's  color  had  faded  a  moment  before  under 
the  withering  glance  of  the  old  Jewess,  it  rose  again 
swiftly  enough,  as  she  read  line  after  line  of  his  strange 
epistle;  till  at  last,  crushing  it  together  in  her  hand,  she 
rose  and  hurried  into  the  adjoining  library,  where  Theon 
sat  over  his  books. 

"  Father,  do  you  know  any  thing  of  this  ?  Look 
what  Orestes  has  dared  to  send  me  by  the  hands  of 
some  base  Jewish  witch  !  "  And  she  spread  the  letter 
before  him,  and  stood  impatient,  her  whole  figure  dilated 
with  pride  and  anger,  as  the  old  man  read  it  slowly  and 
carefully,  and  then  looked  up,  apparently  not  ill  pleased 
with  the  contents. 

"  What,  father  ?  "  asked  she,  half  reproachfully. 
"Do  not  you,  too,  feel  the  insult  which  has  been  put 
upon  your  daughter  ?  " 

"  My  dear  child,"  with  a  puzzled  look,  "  do  you  not 

see  that  he  offers  you " 

"  I  know  what  he  offers  me,  father.     The  Empire  of 

Africa I  am  to  descend  from  the  mountain-heights 

of  science,  from  the  contemplation  of  the  unchangeable 
and  the  ineffable  glories,  into  the  foul  fields  and  farm- 
yards of  earthly  practical  life,  and  become  a  drudge 
among  political  chicanery,  and  the  petty  ambitions,  and 

sins,  and  falsehoods  of  the  earthly  herd And   the 

price  which  he  offers  me,  —  me,  the   stainless, —  me, 
the  virgin,  —  me,  the  untamed,  —  is  —  his  hand  !    Pallas 
Athene  !  dost  thou  not  blush  with  thy  child  ?  " 
"  But,  my  child  —  my  child,  — an  empire " 


MIRIAM. 


87 


"  Would  the  empire  of  the  world  restore  my  lost  self- 
respect,  —  my  just  pride  ?  Would  it  save  my  cheek 
from  blushes  every  time  I  recollected  that  I  bore  the 
hateful  and  degrading  name  of  wife  ?  —  The  property, 
the  puppet  of  a  man,  —  submitting  to  his  pleasure, — 
bearing  his  children,  —  wearing  myself  out  with  all  the 
nauseous  cares  of  wifehood,  —  no  longer  able  to  glory 
in  myself,  pure  and  self-sustained,  but  forced  by  day 
and  night  to  recollect  that  my  very  beauty  is  no  longer 
the  sacrament  of  Athene's  love  for  me,  but  the  plaything 
of  a  man  ;  —  and  such  a  man  as  that !  Luxurious,  friv- 
olous, heartless,  —  courting  my  society,  as  he  has  done 
for  years,  only  to  pick  up  and  turn  to  his  own  base, 
earthly  uses  the  scraps  which  fall  from  the  festal  table 
of  the  gods!  I  have  encouraged  him  too  much,  —  vain 
fool  that  I  have  been !  No,  I  wrong  myself  !  It  was 
only  —  I  thought  —  I  thought  that  by  his  being  seen  at 
our  doors,  the  cause  of  the  immortal  gods  would  gain 

honor  and  strength  in  the  eyes  of  the  muhitude 

I  have  tried  to  feed  the  altars  of  heaven  with  earthly 

fuel And  this  is  my  just  reward  !     I  will  write  to 

him  this   moment;  —  return,  by   the  fitting  messenger 
which  he  has  sent,  insult  for  insult !  " 

"  In  the  name  of  Heaven,  my  daughter  !  —  for  your 
father's  sake  !  —  for  my  sake  !  Hypatia  !  —  my  pride, 
my  joy,  my  only  hope  !  —  have  pity  on  my  gray  hairs ! " 

And  the  poor  old  man  flung  himself  at  her  feet,  and 
clasped  her  knees  imploringly. 

Tenderly  she  lifted  him  up,  and  wound  her  long  arms 
round  him,  and  laid  his  head  on  her  white  shoulder,  and 
her  tears  fell  fast  upon  his  gray  hair ;  but  her  lip  was 
firm  and  determined. 

"  Think  of  my  pride,  —  my  glory  in   your  glory ; 


88 


HYPATIA. 


think  of  me Not  for  myself !     You  know  I  never 

cared  for  myself!"  sobbed  out  the  old  man.  "But  to 
die  seeing  you  empress  !  " 

"  Unless  I  died  first  in  childbed,  father,  as  many  a 
woman  dies  wiio  is  weak  enough  to  become  a  slave,  and 
submit  to  tortures  only  fit  for  slaves." 

"But — but — "  said  the  old  man,  racking  his  be- 
wildered brains  for  some  argument  far  enough  removed 
from  nature  and  common  sense  to  have  an  efiect  on  the 
beautiful  fanatic,  —  "  but  the  cause  of  the  gods  !  What 
you  might  do  for  it !  ...  .  Remember  Julian  !  " 

Hypatia's  arms  dropped  suddenly.  Yes  ;  it  was  true  ! 
The  thought  flashed  across  her  mind  with  mingled  de- 
light and   terror Visions  of  her  childhood   rose 

swift  and  thick,  —  temples,  sacrifices,  priesthoods,  col- 
leges, museums !  What  might  she  not  do  ?  What 
might  she  not  make  Africa  ?  Give  her  ten  years  of 
power,  and  the  hated  name  of  Christian  might  be  for- 
gotten, and  Athene  Polias,  colossal  in  ivory  and  gold, 
watching  in  calm  triumph  over  the  harbors  of  a  heathen 
Alexandria But  the  price  ! 

And  she  hid  her  face  in  her  hands,  and,  bursting  into 
bitter  tears,  walked  slowly  away  into  her  own  chamber, 
her  whole  body  convulsed  with  the  internal  struggle. 

The  old  man  looked  after  her,  anxiously  and  per- 
plexed, and  then  followed,  hesitating.  She  was  sitting 
at  the  table,  her  face  buried  in  her  hands.  He  did  not 
dare  to  disturb  her.  In  addition  to  all  the  affection,  the 
wisdom,  the  glorious  beauty,  on  which  his  old  heart  fed 
day  by  day,  he  believed  her  to  be  the  possessor  of  those 
supernatural  powers  and  favors,  to  which  she  so  boldly 
laid  claim.  And  he  stood  watching  her  in  the  doorway, 
praying  in  his  heart  to  all  gods  and  demons,  principali- 


MIRIAM.  89 

ties  and  powers,  from  Athene  down  to  his  daughter's 
guardian  spirit,  to  move  a  determination  which  he  was 
too  weak  to  gainsay,  and  yet  too  rational  to  approve. 

At  last  the   struggle  was  over,  and  she  looked  up, 
clear,  calm,  and  glorious  again. 

"  It  shall  be.     For  the  sake  of  the  immortal  gods,  — 
for  the  sake   of  art,  and    science,   and    learning,  and 

philosophy It  shall  be.     If  the  gods  demand  a 

victim,  here  am  I.  If  a  second  time  in  the  history  of 
the  ages  the  Grecian  fleet  cannot  sail  forth,  conquering 
and  civilizing,  without  the  sacrifice  of  a  virgin,  I  give 
my  throat  to  the  knife.  Father,  call  me  no  more  Hy- 
patia  :  call  me  Iphigenia  !  " 

"  And  me  Agamemnon  ?  "  asked  the  old  man,  at- 
tempting a  faint  jest  through  his  tears  of  joy.     "  I  dare 

say  you  think  me  a  very  cruel  father  ;  but " 

"  Spare  me,  father,  —  I  have  spared  you." 
And  she  began  to  write  her  answer. 
"  I  have   accepted  his  offer,  —  conditionally,  that  is. 
And  on  whether  he  have  courage  or  not  to  fulfil  that 

condition,  depends Do  not  ask  me   what  it  is. 

While  Cyril  is  leader  of  the  Christian  mob,  it  may  be 
safer  for  you,  my  father,  that  you  should  be  able  to 
deny  all  knowledge  of  my  answer.  Be  content.  I 
have  said  this,  —  that  if  he  will  do  as  you  would  have 
him  do,  I  will  do  as  you  would  have  me  do." 

"  Have  you  not  been  too  rash  ?  Have  you  not  de- 
manded of  him  something  which,  for  the  sake  of  pub- 
lic opinion,  he  dare  not  grant  openly,  and  yet  which 

he  may  allow  you  to  do  for  yourself  when  once " 

"  I  have.     If  I   am   to   be   a  victim,  the  sacrificing 
priest  shall  at  least  be  a  man,  and  not  a  coward  and  a 
timeserver.     If  he  believest  his  Christian  faith,  let  him 
VOL.   I.  7 


90  HYPATIA. 

defend  it  against  me  ;  for  cither  it  or  I  shall  perish. 
If  he  does  not,  —  as  he  does  not,  —  let  him  give  up 
living  in  a  lie,  and  taking  on  his  lips  blasphemies  against 
the  immortals,  from  which  his  heart  and  reason  re- 
volt !  " 

And  she  clapped  her  hands  again  for  the  maid-ser- 
vant, gave  her  the  letter  silently,  shut  the  doors  of  her 
chamber,  and  tried  to  resume  her  Commentary  on  Plo- 
tinus.  Alas  !  what  were  all  the  wire-drawn  dreams  of 
metaphysics  to  her  in  that  real  and  human  struggle  of 
the  heart  ?  What  availed  it  to  define  the  process  by 
which  individual  souls  emanated  from  the  universal  one, 
while  her  own  soul  had,  singly  and  on  its  own  responsi- 
bility, to  decide  so  terrible  an  act  of  will  ?  or  to  write 
fine  words  with  pen  and  ink  about  the  immutability  of 
the  supreme  Reason,  while  her  own  reason  was  left 
tjiere  to  struggle  for  its  life  amjd  a  roaring,  shoreless 
waste  of  doubts  and  darkness  ?  O,  how  grand,  and 
clear,  and  logical  it  had  all  looked  half  an  hour  ago  ! 
And  how  irrefragably  she  had  been  deducing  from  it 
all,  syllogism  after  syllogism,  the  non-existence  of  evil ! 
—  how  it  was  but  a  lower  form  of  good,  one  of  the 
countless  products  of  the  one  great,  all-pervading  mind 
which  could  not  err  or  change,  only  so  strange  and 
recondite  in  its  form  as  to  excite  antipathy  in  all  minds 
but  that  of  the  philosopher,  who  learned  to  see  the  stem 
which  connected  the  apparently  bitter  fruit  with  the 
perfect  root  from  whence  it  sprung.  Could  she  see  the 
stem  there?  —  the  connection  between  the  pure  and 
supreme  Reason,  and  the  hideous  caresses  of  the  de- 
bauched and  cowardly  Orestes  .?  Was  not  that  evil, 
pure,  unadulterate  with  any  vein  of  good,  past,  present, 
or  future  .''.... 


MIRIAM,  91 

True  ;  —  she  might  keep  her  spirit  pure  amid  it  all ; 
she  might  sacrifice  the  base  body,  and  ennoble  the  soul 

by  the  self-sacrifice And  yet,   would   not  that 

increase  the  horror,  the  agony,  the  evil  of  it,  —  to  her, 
at  least,  most  real  evil,  not  to  be  explained  away, — 
and  yet  the  gods  required  it  ?  Were  they  just,  merci- 
ful in  that?  Was  it  like  them,  to  torture  her,  their  last 
unshaken  votary?  Did  they  require  it?  Was  it  not 
required  of  them  by  some  higher  power,  of  whom  they 
were  only  the  emanations,  the  tools,  the  puppets  ?  — 
and  required  of  that  higher  power  by  some  still  higher 
one, —  some  nameless,  absolute  destiny  of  which  Ores- 
tes and  she,  and  all  heaven  and  earth,  were  but  the 
victims,  dragged  along  in  an  inevitable  vortex,  helpless, 
hopeless,  toward  that  for  which  each  was  meant  ?  —  And 
she  was  meant  for  this  !  The  thought  was  unbearable  ; 
it  turned  her  giddy.  No  !  she  would  not !  She  would 
rebel  !  Like  Prometheus,  she  would  dare  destiny,  and 
brave  its  worst !  And  she  sprang  up  to  recall  the  letter. 
....  Miriam  was  gone ;  and  she  threw  herself  on 
the  floor  and  wept  bitterly. 

And  her  peace  of  mind  would  certainly  not  have 
been  improved,  could  she  have  seen  old  Miriam  hurry 
home  with  her  letter  to  a  dingy  house  in  the  Jews' 
quarter,  where  it  was  unsealed,  read,  and  sealed  up 
again  with  such  marvellous  skill,  that  no  eye  could  have 
detected  the  change  ;  and  finally,  still  less  would  she  have 
been  comforted  could  she  have  heard  the  conversation 
which  was  going  on  in  a  summer-room  of  Orestes'  pal- 
ace, between  that  illustrious  statesman  and  Raphael 
Aben-Ezra,  who  were  lying  on  two  divans  opposite 
each  other,  whiling  away,  by  a  throw  or  two  of  dice, 
the  anxious  moments  which  delayed  her  answer. 


92  HYP  ATI  A. 

"  Trays  again  !     The  Devil  is  in  you,  Raphael  !  " 

"  I  believe  he  is,"  answered  Raphael,  sweeping  up 
the  gold  pieces 

"  When  will  that  old  witch  he  buck  ?  " 

"  When  slie  has  read  through  your  letter,  and  Ily- 
patia's  answer. 

"  Read  them?" 

"  Of  course.  You  don't  fixncy  she  is  going  to  be 
fool  enough  to  carry  a  message  without  knowing  what 
it  is  ?  Don't  be  angry  ;  she  wont  tell.  She  would  give 
one  of  those  two  grave  lights  there,  which  she  calls 
her  eyes,  to  see  the  thing  prosper." 

"  Why  ?  " 

"  Your  excellency  will  know  when  the  letter  comes. 
Here  she  is  ;  I  hear  steps  in  the  cloister.  Now,  one 
bet  before  they  enter.  I  give  you  two  to  one  she  asks 
you  to  turn  pagan." 

"  What  in  ?     Negro-boys  ?  " 

"  Any  thing  you  like." 

"  Taken.     Come  in  slaves  !  " 

And  Hypocorisma  entered,  pouting. 

"  That  Jewish  fury  is  outside  with  a  letter,  and  has 
the  impudence  to  say  she  wont  let  me  bring  it  in  !  " 

"  Bring  her  in  then.     Quick  !  " 

"  I  wonder  what  I  am  here  for,  if  people  have  secrets 
that  I  am  not  to  know,"  grumbled  the  spoilt  youth. 

"  Do  you  want  a  blue  ribbon  round  those  white  sides 
of  yours,  you  monkey  ?  "  answered  Orestes.  "  Be- 
cause, if  you  do,  the  hippopotamus  hide  hangs  ready 
outside." 

"  Let  us  make  him  kneel  down  here  for  a  couple  of 
hours,  and  use  him  as  a  dice-board,"  said  Raphael,  "  as 
you  used  to  do  to  the  girls  in  Armenia." 


MIRIAM.  93 

"  Ah,  you  recollect  that  ?  —  and  how  the  barbarian 
papas  used  to  grumble,  till  I  had  to  crucify  one  or  two, 
eh  ?  That  was  somethins;  like  life  !  I  love  those  out- 
of-the-way  stations,  where  nobody  asks  questions  :  but 
here  one  might  as  well  live  among  the  monks  in  Nitria, 
Here  comes  Canidia  !  Ah,  the  answer  ?  Hand  it  here, 
my  queen  of  go-betweens  !  " 

Orestes  read  it,  —  and  his  countenance  fell. 

"  I  have  won  !  " 

"  Out  of  the  room,  slaves  !  and  no  listening !  " 

"  I  have  won,  then  ?  " 

Orestes  tossed  the  letter  across  to  him,  and  Raphael 
read  :  — 

"  The  immortal  gods  accept  no  divided  worship  ; 
and  he  who  would  command  the  counsels  of  their 
prophetess  must  remember  that  they  will  vouchsafe  to 
her  no  illumination  till  their  lost  honors  be  restored. 
If  he  who  aspires  to  be  the  lord  of  Africa  dare  trample 
on  the  hateful  cross,  and  restore  the  Csesareum  to  those 
for  whose  worship  it  was  built,  —  if  he  dare  proclaim 
aloud  with  his  lips,  and  in  his  deeds,  that  contempt  for 
novel  and  barbarous  superstitions,  which  his  taste  and 
reason  have  already  taught  him,  then  he  would  prove 
himself  one  with  whom  it  were  a  glory  to  labor,  to  dare, 
to  die  in  a  great  cause.     But  till  then " 

And  so  the  letter  ended. 

"  What  am  I  to  do  ?  " 

"  Take  her  at  her  word." 

"  Good  heavens  !  I  shall  be  excommunicated  !  And 
—  and  —  what  is  to  become  of  my  soul  ?  " 

"  What  will  become  of  it  in  any  case,  my  most  ex- 
cellent lord  ?  "  answered  Raphael,  blandly. 

"  You  mean  —  I  know  what  you  cursed  Jews  think 


94 


HYPATIA. 


will  happen  to  every  one  but  yourselves.  But  what 
would  the  world  say  ?  I  an  apostate  !  And  in  the 
face  of  Cyril  and  the  populace  !     I  dare  n't,  i  tell  you  !  " 

"  No  one  asked  your  excellency  to  apostatize." 

"  Why,  what  ?      What  did  you  say  just  now  .?  " 

"  I  asked  you  to  promise.  It  will  not  be  the  first 
time  that  promises  before  marriage  have  not  exactly 
coincided  with  performance  afterwards." 

"  I  dare  n't,  —  that  is,  I  wont  promise.  I  believe  now, 
this  is  some  trap  of  your  Jewish  intrigue,  just  to  make 
me  commit  myself  against  those  Christians,  whom  you 
hate." 

"  I  assure  you,  I  despise  all  mankind  far  too  pro- 
foundly to  hate  them.  How  disinterested  my  advice 
was  when  I  proposed  this  match  to  you,  you  never  will 
know  ;  indeed,  it  would  be  boastful  in  me  to  tell  you. 
But  really  you  must  make  a  little  sacrifice  to  win  this 
foolish  girl.  With  all  the  depth  and  daring  of  her  in- 
tellect to  help  you,  you  might  be  a  match  for  Romans, 
Byzantines,  and  Goths  at  once.  And  as  for  beauty, 
why,  there  is  one  dimple  inside  that  wrist,  just  at  the 
setting  on  of  the  sweet  little  hand,  worth  all  the  other 
flesh  and  blood  in  Alexandria." 

"  By  Jove  !  you  admire  her  so  much,  I  suspect  you 
must  be  in  love  with  her  yourself.  Why  don't  you 
marry  her?  1  '11  make  you  my  prime  minister,  and 
then  we  shall  have  the  use  of  her  wits  without  the 
trouble  of  her  fancies.  By  the  twelve  gods  !  If  you 
marry  her  and  help  me,  I  'II  make  you  what  you  like !" 

Raphael  rose,  and  bowed  to  the  earth. 

"  Your  serene  high-mightiness  overwhelms  me.  But 
I  assure  you,  that  never  having  as  yet  cared  for  any 
one's  interest  but  my  own,  I  could  not  be  expected,  at 


MIRIAM.  95 

my  time  of  life,  to  devote  myself  to  that  of  another, 
even  though  it  were  to  yours." 

"  Candid  !  " 

"  Exactly  so ;  and,  moreover,  whosoever  I  may 
marry  will  be  practically,  as  well  as  theoretically,  my 
private  and  peculiar  property You  compre- 
hend ?  " 

"  Candid  again." 

"  Exactly  so  ;  and  waiving  the  third  argument,  that 
she  probably  might  not  choose  to  marry  me,  I  beg  to 
remark,  that  it  would  not  be  proper  to  allow  the  world 
to  say,  that  I,  the  subject,  had  a  wiser  and  fairer  wife 
than  you,  the  ruler  ;  especially  a  wife  who  had  already 
refused  that  ruler's  complimentary  offer." 

"  By  Jove  !  and  she  has  refused  me  in  good  earnest ! 
I  '11  make  her  repent  it !  I  was  a  fool  to  ask  her  at  all  ! 
What  's  the  use  of  having  guards,  if  one  can't  compel 
what  one  wants  >  If  fair  means  can't  do  it,  foul  shall ! 
I  '11  send  for  her  this  moment  !  " 

"  Most  illustrious  majesty,  it  will  not  succeed.  You 
do  not  know  that  woman's  determination.  Scourges 
and  red-hot  pincers  will  not  shake  her  alive  ;  and  dead, 
she  will  be  of  no  use  whatsoever  to  you,  while  she  will 
be  of  great  use  to  Cyril." 

"  How  ?  " 

"  He  will  be  most  happy  to  make  the  whole  story  a 
handle  against  you,  give  out  that  she  died  a  virgin  mar- 
tyr, in  defence  of  the  most  holy  catholic  and  apostolic 
faith,  get  miracles  worked  at  her  tomb,  and  pull  your 
palace  about  your  ears  on  the  strength  thereof." 

"  Cyril  will  hear  of  it  anyhow  :  that 's  another  dilemma 
into  which  you  have  brought  me,  you  intriguing  rascal  ! 
Why  this  girl  will  be  boasting  all  over  Alexandria  that 


96  HYPATIA. 

I  have  offered  her  marriage,  and  that  she  has  done  her- 
self the  honor  to  refuse  me." 

"  She  will  be  much  too  wise  to  do  any  thing  of  the 
kind  ;  she  has  sense  enough  to  know  that,  if  she  did  so, 
you  would  inform  a  Christian  populace  what  conditions 
she  offered  you,  and,  with  all  her  contempt  for  the  bur- 
den of  the  flesh,  she  has  no  mind  to  be  lightened  of  that 
pretty  load  by  being  torn  in  pieces  by  Christian  monks ; 
a  very  probable  ending  for  her  in  any  case,  as  she  her- 
self, in  her  melancholy  moods,  confesses." 

"  What  will  you  have  me  to  do  then  ?  " 

"  Simply  nothing.  Let  the  prophetic  spirit  go  out  of 
her,  as  it  will,  in  a  day  or  two,  and  then  —  I  know 
nothing  of  human  nature,  if  she  does  not  bate  a  little 
of  her  own  price.  Depend  on  it,  for  all  her  inefla- 
bilities,  and  impassibilities,  and  all  the  rest  of  the 
seventh-heaven  moonshine  at  which  we  play  here  in 
Alexandria,  a  throne  is  far  too  pretty  a  bait  for  even 
Hypatia  the  Pythoness  to  refuse.  Leave  well  alone 
is  a  good  rule,  but  leave  ill  alone  is  a  better.  So  now 
another  bet  before  we  part,  and  this  time  three  to  one. 
Do  nothing  either  way,  and  she  sends  to  you  of  her  own 
accord  before  a  month  is  out.  In  Caucasian  mules  .'' 
Done  ?     Be  it  so." 

"  Well,  you  are  the  most  charming  counsellor  for  a 
poor  perplexed  devil  of  a  prefect !  If  I  had  but  a  private 
fortune  like  you,  I  could  just  take  the  money,  and  let 
the  work  do  itself." 

"  Which  is  the  true  method  of  successful  govern- 
ment. Your  slave  bids  you  farewell.  Do  not  forget 
our  bet.     You  dine  with  me  to-morrow  ?  " 

And  Raphael  bowed  himself  out. 

As  he  left  the  prefect's  door,  he  saw  Miriam  on  the 


MIRIAM.  97 

opposite  side  of  the  street,  evidently  watching  for 
him.  As  soon  as  she  saw  him,  she  held  on  her  own 
side,  without  appearing  to  notice  him,  till  he  turned  a 
corner,  and  then,  crossing,  caught  him  eagerly  by  the 

arm. 

« 

"  Does  the  fool  dare  ?  " 

"  Who  dare  what  ?  " 

"  You  know  what  I  mean.  Do  you  suppose  old 
Miriam  carries  letters  without  taking  care  to  know  what 
is  inside  them  .^  AVill  he  apostatize  ?  Tell  me.  I  am 
secret  as  the  grave  !  " 

"  The  fool  has  found  an  old  worm-eaten  rag  of  con- 
science somewhere  in  the  corner  of  his  heart,  and  dare 
not." 

"  Curse  the  coward  !  And  such  a  plot  as  I  had  laid  ! 
I  would  have  swept  every  Christian  dog  out  of  Africa 
within  the  year.     What  is  the  man  afraid  of  .^  " 

"  Hell-fire." 

"  Why  he  will  go  there  in  any  case,  the  accursed 
Gentile  ! " 

"  So  I  hinted  to  him,  as  delicately  as  I  could  ;  but, 
like  the  rest  of  the  world,  he  had  a  sort  of  partiality  for 
getting  thither  by  his  own  road." 

"  Coward  !  And  whom  shall  I  get  now  ?  Oh,  if 
that  Pelagia  had  as  much  cunning  in  her  whole  body  as 
Hypatia  has  in  her  little  finger,  I  'd  seat  her  and  her 
Goth  upon  the  throne  of  the  Csesars.     But " 

"  But  she  has  five  senses,  and  just  enough  wit  to  use 
them,  eh  ?  " 

"  Don't  laugh  at  her  for  that,  the  darling  !  I  do  de- 
light in  her,  after  all.  It  warms  even  my  old  blood  to 
see  how  thoroughly  she  knows  her  business,  and  how 
she  enjoys  it,  like  a  true  daughter  of  Eve." 


98  HYPATIA. 

"  She  has  been  your  most  successful  pupil,  certainly, 
mother.     You  may  well  be  proud  of  her." 

The  old  hag  chuckled  to  herself  awhi  c  ;  and  then 
suddenly  turned  to  Raphael :  — 

•'  See  here  !  I  have  a  present  for  you  "  ;  and  she 
pulled  out  a  magnificent  ring. 

"  Why,  mother,  you  are  always  giving  me  presents. 
It  was  but  a  month  ago  you  sent  me  this  poisoned  dag- 
ger." 

"  Why  not,  ch  ?  —  why  not  ?  Why  should  not  Jew 
give  to  .lew  ?     Take  the  old  woman's  ring  !  " 

"  What  a  glorious  opal !  " 

"  Ah,  that  is  an  opal,  indeed  !  And  the  unspeakable 
name  upon  it ;  just  like  Solomon's  own.  Take  it,  1  say  ! 
Whosoever  wears  that  need  never  fear  fire,  steel,  poison, 
or  woman's  eye." 

"Your  own  included,  ch  ?  " 

"Take  it,  I  say  !  "  and  Miriam  caught  his  hand,  and 
forced  the  ring  on  his  finger.  "  There  !  Now  you  are 
safe.  And  now  call  me  mother  again.  I  like  it.  I 
don't  know  why,  but  I  like  it.  And,  Raphael  Aben- 
Ezra,  don't  laugh  at  me,  and  call  me  witch  and  hag,  as 
you  often  do.  I  don't  care  about  it  from  any  one  else  ; 
I  'm  accustomed  to  it.  But  when  you  do  it,  I  always 
long  to  stab  you.  That  's  why  I  gave  you  the  dagger. 
I  used  to  wear  it;  and  I  was  afraid  I  might  be  tempted 
to  use  it  some  day,  when  the  thought  came  across  me 
how  handsome  you  'd  look,  and  how  quiet,  when  you  were 
dead,  and  your  soul  up  there  so  happy  in  Abraham's 
bosom,  watching  all  tlie  Gentiles  frying  and  roasting  for 
ever  down  below.  Don't  laugh  at  me,  I  say ;  and  don't 
thwart  me  !  I  may  make  you  the  emperor's  prime 
minister,  some  day.     I  can  if  I  choose." 


MIKIAM.  99 

"  Heaven  forbid  !  "  said  Raphael,  laughing, 

"  Don't  laugh.  I  cast  your  nativity  last  night,  and  I 
know  you  have  no  cause  to  laugh.  A  great  danger 
hangs  over  you,  and  a  deep  temptation.  And  if  you 
weather  this  storm,  you  may  be  chamberlain,  prime 
minister,  emperor,  if  you  will.  And  you  shall  be, — 
by  the  four  archangels,  you  shall  !  " 

And  the  old  woman  vanished  down  a  by-lane,  leaving 
Raphael  utterly  bewildered. 

"  Moses  and  the  prophets  !  Does  the  old  lady  intend 
to  marry  me  ?  What  can  there  be  in  this  very  lazy 
and  selfish  personage  who  bears  my  name,  to  excite 
so  romantic  an  affection  ?  Well,  Raphael  Aben-Ezra, 
thou  hast  one  more  friend  in  the  world  beside  Bran 
the  mastiff;  and  therefore  one  more  trouble,  seeing 
that  friends  always  expect  a  due  return  of  affection 
and  good  offices,  and  what  not.  I  wonder  whether 
the  old  lady  has  been  getting  into  a  scrape  kidnapping, 

and  wants  my  patronage  to  help  her  out  of  it 

Three  quarters  of  a  mile  of  roasting  sun  between  me 
and  home  !,...!  must  hire  a  gig  or  a  litter,  or  some- 
thing off  the  next  stand  ....  with  a  driver  who  has 

been  eating  onions And  of  course  there  is  not 

a  stand  for  the  next  half-mile.  O,  divine  tether !  as 
Prometheus  has  it,  and  ye  swift-winged  breezes  (I  wish 
there  were  any  here),  when  will  it  all  be  over  ?  Three- 
and-thirty  years  have  I  endured  already,  of  this  Babel 
of  knaves  and  fools  ;  and  with  this  abominable  good 
health  of  mine,  which  wont  even  help  me  with  gout 
or  indigestion,  I  am  likely  to  have  three-and-thirty  years 

more  of  it I  know  nothing,  and  I  care  for  nothing, 

and  I  expect  nothing  ;  and  I  actually  can't  take  the 
trouble  to  prick  a  hole  in  myself,  and  let  the  very  small 


100  HYPATIA. 

amount  of  wits  out,  to  see  something  really  worth  see- 
ing, and  try  its  strength  at  something  really  worth  doing, 
if,  after  all,  the  other  side  of  the  grave  does  not  turn 
out  to  be  just  as  stupid  as  this  one  ....  When  will  it 
be  all  over,  and  I  in  Abraham's  bosom,  —  or  any  one 
else's,  provided  it  be  not  a  woman's  ?  " 


101 


CHAPTER    V. 


A    DAY    IN    ALEXANDRIA. 


In  the  mean  while,  Philammon,  with  his  hosts,  the 
Goths,  had  been  shpping  down  the  stream.  Passing, 
one  after  another,  world-old  cities  now  dwindled  to  de- 
caying towns,  and  numberless  canal-mouths,  now  fast 
falling  into  ruin  with  the  fields  to  which  they  insured 
fertility,  under  the  pressure  of  Roman  extortion  and 
misrule,  they  had  entered  one  evening  the  mouth  of 
the  great  canal  of  Alexandria,  slid  easily  all  night 
across  the  star-bespangled  shadows  of  Lake  Mareotis, 
and  found  themselves,  when  the  next  morning  dawned, 
among  the  countless  masts  and  noisy  quays  of  the  great- 
est seaport  in  the  world.  The  motley  crowd  of  for- 
eigners, the  hubbub  of  all  dialects  from  the  Crima^a  to 
Cadiz,  the  vast  piles  of  merchandise,  and  heaps  of 
wheat,  lying  unsheltered  in  that-  rainless  air,  the  huge 
bulk  of  the  corn-ships  lading  for  Rome,  whose  tall  sides 
rose  story  over  stoiy,  like  floating  palaces,  above  the 
buildings  of  some  inner  dock,  —  these  sights,  and  a 
hundred  more,  made  the  young  monk  think  that  the 
world  did  not  look  at  first  sight  a  thing  to  be  despised. 
In  front  of  heaps  of  fruit,  fresh  from  the  market-boats, 


102  HYPATIA. 

black  groups  of  glossy  negro  slaves  were  basking  and 
laughing  on  the  quay,  looking  anxiously  and  coquet- 
tishiy  round  in  hopes  of  a  purchaser  ;  they  evidently 
did  not  think  the  change  from  desert  toil  to  city  luxuries 
a  change  for  the  worse.  Philammon  turned  away  his 
eyes  from  beholding  vanity ;  but  only  to  meet  fresh 
vanity  wheresoever  they  fell.  He  felt  crushed  by  the 
multitude  of  new  objects,  stunned  by  tlie  din  around  ; 
and  scarcely  recollected  himself  enough  to  seize  the 
first  opportunity  of  escaping  from  his  dangerous  com- 
panions. 

"  Holloa  !  "  roared  Smid,  the  armorer,  as  he  scrambled 
on  to  the  steps  of  the  slip  ;  "  you  are  not  going  to  run 
away  without  bidding  us  good-by  ?  " 

"  Stop  with  me,  boy  !  "  said  old  VVulf.  "  I  saved  you, 
and  you  are  my  man." 

Philammon  turned  and  hesitated. 

"  I  am  a  monk,  and  God's  man." 

"  You  can  be  that  anywhere.      I  will  make  you  a 


warrior." 


"  The  weapons  of  my  warfare  are  not  flesh  and  blood, 
but  prayer  and  fasting,"  answered  poor  Philammon, 
who  felt  already  that  he  should  have  ten  times  more 
need  of  the  said  weapons  in  Alexandria,  than  ever  he 

had  had  in  the  desert "  Let  me  go  !     I  am  not  made 

for  your  life  !  1  thank  you,  bless  you  !  I  will  pray  for 
you.  Sir  I  but  let  me  go  !  " 

"  Curse  the  craven  hound  !  "  roared  half  a  dozen 
voices.  "  Why  did  you  not  let  us  have  our  will  with 
him,  Prince  VVulf.?  You  might  have  expected  such 
gratitude  from  a  monk." 

"  He  owes  me  my  share  of  the  sport,"  quoth  Smid. 
*'  And  here  it  is !  "     And  a  hatchet,  thrown  with  prac- 


^  A    DAY    IN    ALEXANDRIA.  103 

tised  aim,  whistled  right  for  Philammon's  head.  He 
had  just  time  to  swerve,  and  the  weapon  struck  and 
snapped  against  the  granite  wall  behind. 

"  Well  saved  !  "  said  Wulf,  coolly,  while  the  sailors 
and  market-women  above  yelled  murder,  and  the  cus- 
tom-house officers,  and  other  constables  and  catchpoles 
of  the  harbor,  rushed  to  the  place,  —  and  retired  again 
quietly  at  the  thunder  of  the  Amal  from  the  boat's 
stern  :  — 

"  Never  mind  !  my  good  fellows  !  we  're  only  Goths, 
and  on  a  visit  to  the  prefect,  too." 

"  Only  Goths,  my  donkey-riding  friends  !  "  echoed 
Smid  ;  and  at  that  ominous  name  the  whole  posse  com- 
itatus  tried  to  look  unconcerned,  and  found  suddenly 
that  their  presence  was  absolutely  required  in  an  oppo- 
site direction. 

"  Let  him  go,"  said  Wulf,  as  he  stalked  up  the 
steps.  "  Let  the  boy  go.  I  never  set  my  heart  on  any 
man  yet,"  he  growled  to  himself,  in  an  under  voice, 
"  but  what  he  disappointed  me,  —  and  I  must  not  ex- 
pect more  from  this  fellow.  Come,  men,  ashore,  and 
get  drunk ! " 

Philammon,  of  course,  now  that  he  had  leave  to  go, 
longed  to  stay  ;  at  all  events  he  must  go  back  and  thank 
his  hosts.  He  turned  unwillingly  to  do  so,  as  hastily  as 
he  could,  and  found  Pelagia  and  her  gigantic  lover  just 
entering  a  palanquin.  With  downcast  eyes  he  ap- 
proached the  beautiful  basilisk,  and  stammered  out  some 
commonplace  ;  and  she,  full  of  smiles,  turned  to  him 
at  once. 

"  Tell  us  more  about  yourself  before  we  part.  You 
speak  such  beautiful  Greek, —  true  Athenian.  It  is 
quite  delightful  to  hear  one's  own  accent  again.  Were 
you  ever  at  Athens  ?  " 


104  IIVPATIA.  ' 

"  When  I  was  a  cliild  ;  I  recollect  —  that  is,  I 
think " 

"  What  ?  "  asked  Pelagia,  eagerly, 

"A  great  house  in  Athens  —  and  a  great  battle  there 
—  and  coming  to  Egypt  in  a  sliip." 

"  Heavens !  "  said  Pelagia,  and  paused "  How 

strange  !     Girls,  who  said  he  was  like  me  ?  " 

"  I'm  sure  we  meant  no  harm,  if  we  did  say  it  in 
joke,"  pouted  one  of  the  attendants. 

"  Like  me  !  —  you  must  come  and  see  us.  I  have 
something  to  say  to  you You  must!" 

Philammon  misinterpreted  the  intense  interest  of  her 
tone,  and  if  he  did  not  shrink  back,  gave  some  involun- 
tary gesture  of  reluctance.     Pelagia  laughed  aloud. 

"  Don't  be  vain  enough  to  suspect,  foolish  boy,  but 
come  !  Do  you  think  that  I  have  nothing  to  talk  about 
but  nonsense  ?     Come  and  see  me.     It  may  be  better 

for  you.     I  live  in ,"  and  she  named  a  fashionable 

street,  which  Philammon,  though  he  inwardly  vowed 
not  to  accept  the  invitation,  somehow  could  not  help  re- 
membering. 

"  Do  leave  the  wild  man,  and  come,"  growled  the 
Amal  from  within  the  palanquin.  "  You  are  not  going 
to  turn  nun,  I  hope  }  " 

"  Not  while  the  first  man  I  ever  met  in  the  world 
stays  in  it,"  answered  Pelagia,  as  she  skipped  intothe 
palanquin,  taking  care  to  show  the  most  lovely  white 
heel  and  ankle,  and  like  the  Parthian,  send  a  random 
arrow  as  she  retreated.  But  the  dart  was  lost  on  Phi- 
lammon, who  had  been  already  hustled  away  by  the 
bevy  of  laughing  attendants,  amid  baskets,  dressing- 
cases,  and  bird-cages,  and  was  fain  to  make  his  escape 
into  the  Babel  round,  and  inquire  his  way  to  the  patri- 
arch's house. 


A    DAY    IN    ALEXANDRIA.  105 

"  Patriarch's  house  ?  "  answered  the  man  whom  he 
first  addressed,  a  little  lean,  swarthy  fellow,  with  merry- 
black  eyes,  who,  with  a  basket  of  fruit  at  his  feet,  was 
sunning  himself  on  a  balk  of  timber,  meditatively 
chewing  the  papyrus-cane,  and  examining  the  strangers 
with  a  look  of  absurd  sagacity.  "  I  know  it ;  without  a 
doubt  I  know  it ;  all  Alexandria  has  good  reason  to 
know  it.     Are  you  a  monk  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Then  ask  your  way  of  the  monks  ;  you  wont  go 
far  without  finding  one." 

"  But  I  do  not  even  know  the  right  direction  :  what 
is  your  grudge  against  monks,  my  good  man  .?  " 

"  Look  here,  my  youth  ;  you  seem  too  ingenuous  for 
a  monk.  Don't  flatter  yourself  that  it  will  last.  If  you 
can  wear  the  sheep-skin,  and  haunt  the  churches  here 
for  a  month,  without  learning  to  lie,  and  slander,  and 
clap,  and  hoot,  and  perhaps  play  your  part  in  a  sedition- 
and-murder  satyric  drama,  —  why,  you  are  a  better  man 
than  I  take  you  for.  I,  sir,  am  a  Greek,  and  a  philos- 
opher ;  though  the  whirlpool  of  matter  may  have,  and 
indeed  has,  involved  my  ethereal  spark  in  the  body  of 
a  porter.  Therefore,  youth,"  continued  the  little  man, 
starting  up  upon  his  balk  like  an  excited  monkey,  and 
stretching  out  one  oratoric  paw,  "  I  bear  a  treble  hatred 
to  tlie  monkish  tribe.  First,  as  a  man  and  a  husband  ; 
....  for  as  for  the  smiles  of  beauty,  or  otherwise,  — 
such  as  I  have,  I  have  ;  and  the  monks,  if  they  had  their 
wicked  will,  would  leave  neither  men  nor  women  in  the 
world.  Sir,  they  would  exterminate  the  human  race  in 
a  single  generation,  by  a  voluntary  suicide  !  Secondly, 
as  a  porter  ;  for  if  all  men  turned  monks,  nobody  would 
be  idle,  and  the  profession  of  portering  would  be  annihi- 

VOL.  I.  8 


106  HYPATIA. 

lated.  Thirdly,  sir,  as  a  philosopher ;  for  as  the  false 
coin  is  odious  to  the  true,  so  is  the  irrational  and  animal 
asceticism  of  the  monk,  to  the  logical  and  metliodic 
self-restraint  of  one  who,  like  your  humblest  of  philoso- 
phers, aspires  to  a  life  according  to  the  pure  reason." 

"  And  pray,"  asked  Philammon,  half  laughing,  "  who 
has  been  your  tutor  in  philosophy  ?  " 

"  The  fountain  of  classic  wisdom,  Ilypatia  herself. 
As  the  ancient  sage  —  the  name  is  unimportant  to  a 
monk  —  pumped  water  nightly  that  he  might  study  by 
day,  so  I,  the  guardian  of  cloaks  and  parasols  at  the  sa- 
cred doors  of  her  lecture-room,  imbibe  celestial  knowl- 
edge. From  my  youth  I  felt  in  me  a  soul  above  the 
matter-entangled  herd.  She  revealed  to  me  the  glori- 
ous fact,  that  I  am  a  spark  of  Divinity  itself  A  fallen 
star,  I  am,  sir!"  continued  he,  pensively,  st/oking  his 
lean  stomach,  —  "a  fallen  star  !  —  fallen,  if  the  dignity 
of  philosophy  will  allow  of  the  simile,  among  the  hogs 
of  the  lower  world,  —  indeed,  into  the  hog-bucket  itself. 
Well,  after  all,  I  will  show  you  the  way  to  the  arch- 
bishop's. There  is  a  philosophic  pleasure  in  opening 
one's  treasures  to  the  modest  young.  Perhaps  you  will 
assist  me  by  carrying  this  basket  of  fruit  ?  "  And  the 
little  man  jumped  up,  put  his  basket  on  Pliilammon's 
head,  and  trotted  off  up  a  neighboring  street. 

Philammon  followed,  half  contemptuous,  half  wonder- 
ing at  what  this  philosophy  migiit  be,  which  could  feed 
the  self-conceit  of  any  thing  so  abject  as  his  ragged  little 
apish  guide  ;  but  the  novel  roar  and  whirl  of  the  street, 
the  perpetual  stream  of  busy  faces,  the  line  of  curricles, 
palanquins,  laden  asses,  camels,  elephants,  which  met 
and  passed  him,  and  squeezed  him  up  steps  and  into 
doorways,  as  they  threaded  their  way  through  the  great 


A    DAY    IN    ALEXANDRIA.  107 

Moon-gate  into  the  ample  street  beyond,  drove  every 
thing  from  his  mind  but  wondering  curiosity,  and  a 
vague,  helpless  dread  of  that  great  living  wilderness, 
more  terrible  than  any  dead  wilderness  of  sand  which 
he  had  left  behind.  Already  he  longed  for  the  repose, 
the  silence  of  the  Laura,  —  for  faces  which  knew  him 
and  smiled  upon  him  ;  but  it  was  too  late  to  turn  back 
now.  His  guide  held  on  for  more  than  a  mile  up  the 
great  main  street,  crossed  in  the  centre  of  the  city,  at 
right  angles,  by  one  equally  magnificent,  at  each  end 
of  which,  miles  away,  appeared,  dim  and  distant  over 
the  heads  of  the  living  stream  of  passengers,  the  yellow 
sand-hills  of  the  desert ;  while  at  the  end  of  the  vista  in 
front  of  them  gleamed  the  blue  harbor,  through  a  net- 
work of  countless  masts. 

At  last  they  reached  the  quay  at  the  opposite  end  of 
the  street;  and  there  burst  on  Philammon's  astonished 
eyes  a  vast  semicircle  of  blue  sea,  ringed  with  palaces 

and  towers He  stopped    involuntarily  ;    and    his 

little  guide  stopped  also,  and  looked  askance  at  the 
young  monk,  to  watch  the  effect  which  that  grand  pano- 
rama should  produce  on  him. 

"  There  ! Behold  our  works  !      Us  Greeks  !  — 

us  benighted  heathens  !  Look  at  it  and  feel  yourself 
what  you  are,  a  very  small,  conceited,  ignorant  young 
person,  who  fancies  that  your  new  religion  gives  you  a 
right  to  despise  every  one  else.  Did  Christians  make 
all  this  ?  Did  Christians  build  that  Pharos  there  on  the 
left  horn,  —  wonder  of  the  world?  Did  Christians 
raise  that  mile-long  mole  which  runs  towards  the  land, 
with  its  two  draw-bridges,  connecting  the  two  ports  ? 
Did  Christians  build  this  esplanade,  or  this  gate  of  the 
sun  above  our  heads  ?     Or  that  Csesareum  on  our  r\s\it 


108  IIYPATIA. 


I 


here  ?  Look  at  those  obelisks  before  it !  "  And  he 
pointed  upwards  to  tliose  world-famous  ones,  one  of 
which  still  lies  on  its  ancient  site,  as  Cleopatra's  needle. 
"  Look  up !  look  up,  I  say,  and  feel  small,  —  very 
small  indeed  !  Did  Christians  raise  them,  or  engrave 
them  from  base  to  point  with  the  wisdom  of  the  an- 
cients ?  Did  Christians  build  that  Museum  next  to  it, 
or  design  its  statues  and  its  frescoes,  —  now,  alas !  re- 
echoing no  more  to  the  hummings  of  the  Attic  bee  ? 
Did  they  pile  up  out  of  the  waves  that  palace  beyond 
it,  or  that  Exchange  ?  or  fill  that  Temple  of  Neptune 
with  breathing  brass  and  blushing  marble  ?  Did  they 
build  that  Timonium  on  the  point,  where  Antony, 
worsted  at  Actium,  forgot  his  shame  in  Cleopatra's 
arms  ?  Did  they  quarry  out  that  island  of  Antirrhodus 
into  a  nest  of  docks,  or  cover  those  waters  with  the 
sails  of  every  nation  under  heaven  ?  Speak  !  thou  son 
of  bats  and  moles,  —  thou  six  feet  of  sand, —  thou 
mummy  out  of  the  cliff  caverns  !  Can  monks  do  works 
like  these  ?  " 

"  Other  men  have  labored,  and  we  have  entered 
into  their  labors,"  answered  Philammon,  trying  to  seem 
as  unconcerned  as  he  could.  He  was,  indeed,  too 
utterly  astonished  to  be  angry  at  any  thing.  The  over- 
whelming vastness,  multiplicity,  and  magnificence  of 
the  whole  scene  ;  the  range  of  buildings,  such  as  mother 
earth  never,  perhaps,  carried  on  her  lap  before  or  since  ; 
the  extraordinary  variety  of  form,  —  the  pure  Doric 
and  Ionic  of  the  earlier  Ptolemies,  the  barbaric  and 
confused  gorgeousness  of  the  later  Roman,  and  here 
and  there  an  imitation  of  the  grand  elephantine  style  of 
old  Egypt,  its  gaudy  colors  relieving,  while  they  deep- 
ened, the  effect  of  its  massive  and  simple  outlines  ;  the 


A    DAY    IN    ALEXANDRIA.  109 

eternal  repose  of  that  great  belt  of  stone,  contrasting 
with  the  restless  ripple  of  the  glittering  harbor,  and  the 
busy  sails  which  crowded  out  into  the  sea  beyond,  like 
white  doves  taking  their  flight  into  boundless  space  ;  — 

all    dazzled,  overpowered,"  saddened    him This 

was  the    world Was    it    not   beautiful  ?  .   .  .   . 

Must  not  the  men  who  made  all  this  have  been  —  if 
not  great  ....  yet  ....  he  knew  not  what }  Surely 
they  had  great  souls  and  noble  thoughts  in  them  ! 
Surely  there  was  something  godlike  in  being  able  to 
create   such   things  !     Not  for  themselves  alone,  too  ; 

but   for  a  nation,  —  for  generations  yet  unborn 

And  there  was  the  sea  ....  and  beyond  it,  nations  of 

men    innumerable His   imagination   was  dizzy 

with  thinking  of  them Were  they  all  doomed, 

—  lost .?....  Had  God  no  love  for  them  ? 

At  last,  recovering  himself,  he  recollected  his  errand, 
and  again  asked  his  way  to  the  archbishop's  house. 

"  This  way,  O  youthful  nonentity  !  "  answered  the 
little  man,  leading  the  way  round  the  great  front  of  the 
CcEsareum,  at  the  foot  of  the  obelisks. 

Philammon's  eye  fell  on  some  new  masonry  in  the 
pediment,  ornamented  with  Christian  symbols. 

"  How  ?     Is  this  a  church  ?  " 

"  It  is  the  Csesareum.  It  has  become  temporarily  a 
church.  The  immortal  gods  have,  for  the  time  being, 
condescended  to  waive  their  rights ;  but  it  is  the 
Csesareum,  nevertheless.  This  way  ;  down  this  street 
to  the  right.  There,"  said  he,  pointing  to  a  doorway  in 
the  side  of  the  Museum,  "  is  the  last  haunt  of  the 
Muses,  —  the   lecture-room  of  Hypatia,  the    school  of 

my   unworthiness And    here,"   stopping  at  the 

door  of  a  splendid  house  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 


110  HYP  ATI  A. 

Street,  "  is  the  residence  of  tliat  blest  favorite  of 
Athene, —  Neith,  as  the  barbarians  of  Egypt  would 
denominate  the  goddess  ;  —  we  men  of  Macedonia  re- 
tain the  time-honored  Grecian  nomenclature You 

may  put  down  your  basket."  And  he  knocked  at  the 
door,  and  delivering  the  fruit  to  a  black  porter,  made  a 
polite  obeisance  to  Philammon,  and  seemed  on  the 
point  of  taking  his  departure. 

"  But  where  is  the  archbishop's  house  .''  " 

"  Close  to  the  Serapeium.  You  cannot  miss  the 
place  :  four  hundred  columns  of  marble,  now  ruined  by 
Christian  persecutors,  stand  on  an  eminence " 

"But  how  far  off.?  " 

"  About  three  miles  ;  near  the  gate  of  the  Moon." 

"  Why,  was  not  that  the  gate  by  which  we  entered 
the  city  on  the  other  side  ?  " 

"  Exactly  so ;  you  will  know  your  way  back,  having 
already  traversed  it." 

Philammon  checked  a  decidedly  carnal  inclination  to 
seize  the  little  fellow  by  the  throat,  and  knock  his  head 
against  the  wall,  and  contented  himself  by  saying,  — 

"  Then  do  you  actually  mean  to  say,  you  heathen 
villain,  that  you  have  taken  me  six  or  seven  miles  out 
of  my  road  .''  " 

"  Good  words,  young  man.  If  you  do  me  harm,  I 
call  for  help  ;  we  are  close  to  the  Jews'  quarter,  and 
there  are  some  thousands  there  who  will  swarm  out  like 
wasps  on  the  chance  of  beating  a  monk  to  death.  Yet 
that  which  I  have  done,  I  have  done  with  good  purpose. 
First,  politically,  or  according  to  practical  wisdom, — 
in  order  that  you,  not  I,  might  carry  the  basket.  Next, 
philosophically,  or  according  to  the  intuitions  of  pure 
reason,  —  in  order  that  you    might,  by  beholding  the 


A   DAY    IN    ALEXANDRIA.  Ill 

magnificence  of  that  great  civilization  which  your  fel- 
lows wish  to  destroy,  learn  that  you  are  an  ass,  and  a 
tortoise,  and  a  nonentity ;  and  so,  beholding  yourself  to 
be  nothing,  may  be  moved  to  become  something." 
And  he  moved  off. 

Philammon  seized  him  by  the  collar  of  his  ragged 
tunic,  and  held  him  in  a  grip  from  which  the  little  man, 
though  he  twisted  like  an  eel,  could  not  escape. 

"  Peaceably,  if  you  will  ;  if  not,  by  main  force.  You 
shall  go  back  with  me,  and  show  me  every  step  of  the 
way.     It  is  a  just  psnalty." 

"  The  philosopher  conquers  circumstances  by  sub- 
mitting to  them.  I  go  peaceably.  Indeed,  the  base 
necessities  of  the  hog-bucket  side  of  existence  compel 
me  of  themselves  back  to  the  Moon-gate,  for  another 
early  fruit  job." 

So  they  went  back  together. 

Now  why  Philammon's  thoughts  should  have  been 
running  on  the  next  new  specimen  of  womankind  to 
whom  he  had  been  introduced,  though  only  in  name, 
let  psychologists  tell,  but  certainly,  after  he  had  walked 
some  half-mile  in  silence,  he  suddenly  woke  up,  as  out 
of  many  meditations,  and  asked,  — 

"  But  who  is  this  Hypatia,  of  whom  you  talk  so 
much  ?  " 

"  Who  is  Hypatia,  rustic  ?  The  Queen  of  Alexan- 
dria !  In  wit,  Athene  ;  Hera  in  majesty  ;  in  beauty, 
Aphrodite  !  " 

"  And  who  are  they  ?  "  asked  Philammon. 
The  porter  stopped,  surveyed  him  slowly  from  foot 
to  head  with  an  expression  of  boundless  pity  and  con- 
tempt, and  was  in  the  act  of  walking  off  in  the  ecstasy 
of  his  disdain,  when  he  was  brought  to  suddenly  by 
Philammon's  strong  arm. 


112  HYPATIA. 

"  Ah  !  —  I  recollect.      There    is  a  compact 

Who  is  Athene  ?  The  goddess,  giver  of  wisdom. 
Hera,  spouse  of  Zeus,  Queen  of  tlie  Celestials.  Aph- 
rodite, mother  of  love You   are  not  expected  to 

understand." 

Philammon  did  understand,  however,  so  much  as 
this,  that  Ilypatia  was  a  very  unique  and  wonderful 
person  in  the  mind  of  his  little  guide  ;  and  therefore 
asked  the  only  further  question  by  which  he  could  as 
yet  test  any  Alexandrian  phenomenon, — 

"  And  is  she  a  friend  of  the  patriarch  ?  " 

The  porter  opened  his  eyes  very  wide,  put  his  mid- 
dle finger  in  a  careful  and  complicated  fashion  between 
his  fore  and  third  finger,  and  extending  it  playfully 
toward  Philammon,  performed  therewith  certain  myste- 
rious signals,  the  effect  wliereof  being  totally  lost  on 
him,  the  little  man  stopped,  took  another  look  at  Philam- 
mon's  stately  figure,  and  answered  :  — 

"  Of  the  human  race  in  general,  my  young  friend. 
The  philosopher   must  rise  above  the  individual,  to  the 

contemplation   of  the    universal Aha! — here  is 

something  worth  seeing,  and  the  gates  are  open."  And 
he  stopped  at  the  portal  of  a  vast  building. 

"  Is  this  the  patriarch's  house  ?  " 

"  The  patriarch's  tastes  are  more  plebeian.  He  lives, 
they  say,  in  two  dirty  little  rooms,  —  knowing  what  is 
fit  for  him.  The  patriarch's  house  ?  Its  antipodes,  my 
young  friend, —  that  is,  if  such  beings  have  a  cosmic 
existence,  on  which  point  Ilypatia  has  her  doubts. 
This  is  the  temple  of  art  and  beauty  ;  the  Delphic  tri- 
pod of  poetic  inspiration  ;  the  solace  of  the  earth-worn 
drudge;  in  a  word,  the  theatre;  which  your  patriarch, 
if  he   could,  would  convert  to-morrow  into  a but 


A    DAY    IN    ALEXANDRIA.  113 

the  philosopher  must  not  revile.  Ah  !  I  see  the  prefect's 
apparitors  at  the  gate.  He  is  making  the  polity,  as  we 
call  it  here-;  the  dispositions  ;  settling,  in  short,  the  bill 
of  fare  for  the  day,  in  compliance  with  the  public  pal- 
ate. A  facetious  pantomime  dances  here  on  this  day 
every  week,  —  admired  by  some,  the  Jews  especially. 
To  the  more  classic  taste,  many  of  his  movements  — 
his  recoil,  especially  —  are  wanting  in  the  true  antique 
severity,  —  might  be  called,  perhaps,  on  the  whole,  in- 
decent. Still  the  weary  pilgrim  must  be  amused.  Let 
us  step  in  and  hear." 

But  before  Philammon  could  refuse,  an  uproar  arose 
within,  a  rush  outward  of  the  mob,  and  inward  of  the 
prefect's  apparitors. 

"  It  is  false  !  "  shouted  many  voices.  "  A  Jewish 
calumny  !     The  man  is  innocent !  " 

"  There  's  no  more  sedition  in  him  than  there  is  in 
me,"  roared  a  fat  butcher,  who  looked  as  ready  to  fell 
a  man  as  an  ox.  "  He  was  always  the  first  and  the  last 
to  clap  the  holy  patriarch  at  sermon." 

"  Dear  tender  soul,"  whimpered  a  woman  ;  "  and  I 
said  to  him  only  this  morning,  Why  don't  you  flog  my 
boys.  Master  Hierax  ?  how  can  you  expect  them  to 
learn  if  they  are  not  flogged  ?  And  he  said,  he  never 
could  abide  the  sight  of  a  rod,  it  made  his  back  tingle 
so." 

"  Which  was  plainly  a  prophecy  !  " 

"  And  proves  him  innocent ;  for  how  could  he  proph- 
ecy if  he  was  not  one  of  the  holy  ones  ?  " 

"  Monks  to  the  rescue  !  Hierax  a  Christian  is  taken 
and  tortured  in  the  theatre  !  "  thundered  a  wild  hermit, 
his  beard  and  hair  streaming  about  his  chest  and  shoul- 
ders. 


114 


HYPATIA. 


"Nitria  !  Nitria  !  For  God  and  the  mother  of  God, 
monks  of  Nitria !  Down  with  the  Jewish  slanderers! 
Down  with  heathen  tyrants  !  "  And  tlie  mob,  reinforced 
as  if  by  magic  by  hundreds  from  without,  swept  down 
the  huge  vauhed  passage,  carrying  Philammon  and  the 
porter  with  them. 

"  My  friends,"  quoth  tlie  little  man,  trying  to  look 
philosophically  calm,  though  he  was  fairly  off  his  legs, 
and  hanging  between  heaven  and  earth  on  the  elbows 
of  the  by-standers  ;  "  whence  this  tumult  ?  " 

"  The  Jews  got  up  a  cry  that  Hierax  wanted  to  raise 
a  riot.  Curse  them  and  their  Sabbath,  they  're  always 
rioting  on  Saturdays  about  this  dancer  of  theirs,  instead 
of  working  like  honest  Christians  !  " 

"And  rioting  on  Sunday  instead.     Ahem!  sectarian 

differences,  which  the  philosopher " 

The  rest  of  the  sentence  disappeared  with  the 
speaker,  as  a  sudden  opening  of  the  mob  let  him  drop, 
and  buried  him  under  innumerable  legs. 

Philammon,  furious  at  the  notion  of  persecution,  mad- 
dened by  the  cries  around  him,  found  himself  bursting 
fiercely  tiu'ough  the  crowd,  till  he  reached  the  front 
ranks,  where  tall  gates  of  open  iron-work  barred  all  fur- 
ther progress,  but  left  a  full  view  of  the  tragedy  which 
was  enacting  within,  where  the  poor  innocent  wretch, 
suspended  from  a  gibbet,  writhed  and  shrieked  at  every 
stroke  of  the  hide-whips  of  his  tormentors. 

In  vain  Philammon  and  the  monks  around  him 
knocked  and  beat  at  the  gates  ;  they  were  only  answered 
by  laughter  and  taunts  from  the  apparitors  within, 
curses  on  the  turbulent  mob  of  Alexandria,  with  its  pa- 
triarch, clergy,  saints,  and  churches,  and  promises  to 
each  and  all  outside,  that  their  turn  would  come   next ; 


A    DAY    IN    ALEXANDRIA.  115 

while  the  piteous  screams  grew'  fainter  and  more  faint, 
and  at  last,  with  a  convulsive  shudder,  motion  and  suf- 
fering ceased  for  ever  in  the  poor  mangled  body. 

"  They  have  killed  him  !  Martyred  him  !  Back  to 
the  archbishop  !  To  the  patriarch's  house  :  he  will 
avenge  us  !  "  And  as  the  horrible  news,  and  the  watch- 
word which  followed  it,  passed  outwards  through  the 
crowd,  they  wheeled  round  as  one  man,  and  poured 
through  street  after  street  towards  Cyril's  house  ;  while 
Philammon,  beside  himself  with  horror,  rage,  and  pity, 
hurried  onward  with  them. 

A  tumultuous  hour,  or  more,  was  passed  in  the  street, 
before  he  could  gain  entrance ;  and  then  he  was  swept, 
e^long  with  the  mob  in  which  he  had  been  fast  wedged, 
through  a  dark  low  passage,  and  landed  breathless  in  a 
quadrangle  of  mean  and  new  buildings,  overhung  by  the 
four  hundred  stately  columns  of  the  ruined  Serapeium. 
The  grass  was  already  growing  on  the  ruined  capitals 

and    architraves Little  did   even    its  destroyers 

dream  then,  that  the  day  would  come  when  one  only  of 
that  four  hundred  would  be  left,  as  "  Pompey's  Pillar," 
to  show  what  the  men  of  old  could  think  and  do. 

Philammon  at  last  escaped  from  the  crowd,  and,  put- 
ting the  letter  which  he  had  carried  in  his  bosom  into 
the  hands  of  one  of  the  priests  who  was  mixing  with  the 
mob,  was  beckoned  by  him  into  a  corridor,  and  up  a 
flight  of  stairs,  and  into  a  large,  low,  mean  room,  and 
there,  by  virtue  of  the  world-wide  freemasonry  which 
Christianity  had,  for  the  first  time  on  earth,  established, 
found  himself  in  five  minutes  awaiting  the  summons  of 
the  most  powerful  man  south  of  the  Mediterranean. 

A  curtain  hung  across  the  door  of  the  inner  chamber, 
through  which  Philammon  could  hear  plainly  the  steps 


116  HYPATIA. 

of  some  one  walkinjr  up  and  down  hurriedly  and 
fiercely. 

"^  They  will  drive  me  to  it  ! "  at  last  burst  out  a  deep 

sonorous' voice.     "  They  will  drive  me  to  it Their 

blood  be  on  their  own  head  !  Is  it  not  enough  for  them 
to  blaspheme  God  and  his  Church,  to  have  the  monopoly 
of  all  the  cheating,  fortune-telling,  usury,  sorcery,  and 
coining  of  the  city,  but  they  must  deliver  my  clergy  into 
the  hands  of  the  tyrant  ?  " 

"  It  was  so  even  in  the  Apostles'  time,"  suggested  a 
softer,  but  far  more  unpleasant  voice. 

"  Then  it  shall  be  so  no  longer !  God  has  given  me 
the  power  to  stop  them  ;  and  God  do  so  to  me,  and 
more  also,  if  I  do  not  use  that  power.  To-morrow  I 
sweep  out  this  Augean  stable  of  villany,  and  leave  not 
a  Jew  to  blaspheme  and  cheat  in  Alexandria."" 

"  I  am  afraid  such  a  judgment,  however  righteous, 
might  offend  his  excellency  ?  " 

"  His  excellency  !  Ilis  tyranny  !  Why  does  Orestes 
truckle  to  these  circumcised,  but  because  thev  lend 
money  to  him  and  to  liis  creatures  ?  He  would  keep 
up  a  den  of  fiends  in  Alexandria  if  they  would  do  as 
much  for  liim  !  And  then  to  play  them  off  against  me 
and  mine,  to  bring  Religion  into  contempt  by  setting  the 
mob  together  by  the  ears,  and  to  end  with  outrages  like 
this  !  Seditious  ^  Have  they  not  cause  enough  ?  The 
sooner  I  remove  one  of  their  temptations,  the  better : 
let  the  other  tempter  beware,  lest  his  judgment  be  at 
hand  !  " 

"  The  prefect,  your  holiness  .?  "  asked  the  other 
voice,  slily. 

"  Who  spoke  of  the  prefect  ?  Whosoever  is  a  tyrant, 
and  a  murderer,  and  an  oppressor  of  the  poor,  and  a 


A    DAY    IN    ALEXANDRIA.  117 

favorer  of  the  philosophy  which  despises  and  enslaves 
the  poor,  should  not  he  perish,  though  he  be  seven  times 
a  prefect  ? ',' 

At  this  juncture  Philammon,  thinking  perhaps  that  he 
had  already  heard  too  much,  notified  his  presence  by 
some  slight  noise,  at  which  the  secretary,  as  he  seemed 
to.be,  hastily  lifted  the  curtain,  and  somewhat  sharply 
demanded  his  business.  The  names  of  Pambo  and 
Arsenius,  however,  seemed  to  pacify  him  at  once;  and 
the  trembling  youth  was  ushered  into  the  presence  of 
him  who  in  reality,  though  not  in  name,  sat  on '  the 
throne  of  the  Pharaohs. 

Not,  indeed,  in  their  outward  pomp  ;  the  furniture  of 
the  chamber  was  but  a  grade  above  that  of  the  artisan's  ; 
the  dress  of  the  great  man  was  coarse  and  simple  ;  if 
personal  vanity  peeped  out  anywhere,  it  was  in  the  care- 
ful arrangement  of  the  bushy  beard,  and  of  the  few 
curling  locks  which  the  tonsure  had  spared.  But  the 
height  and  majesty  of  his  figure,  the  stern  and  massive 
beauty  of  his  features,  the  flashing  eye,  curling  lip,  and 
projecting  brow,  —  all  marked  him  as  one  born  to  com- 
mand. As  the  youth  entered,  Cyril  stopped  short  in  his 
walk,  and  looking  him  through  and  through,  with  a 
glance  which  burnt  upon  his  cheeks  like  fire,  and  made 
him  all  but  wish  the  kindly  earth  would  open  and  hide 
him,  took  the  letters,  read  tliem,  and  then  began  :  — 

"  Philammon.  A  Greek.  You  are  said  to  have 
learned  to  obey.  If  so,  you  have  also  learned  to  rule. 
Your  father-abbot  has  transferred  you  to  my  tutelage. 
You  are  now  to  obey  me." 

"  And  I  will." 

"  Well  said.  Go  to  that  window,  then,  and  leap  into 
the  court." 


118 


HYPATIA. 


Philammon  walked  to  it,  and  opened  it.  The  pave- 
ment was  full  twenty  feet  below  ;  but  his  business  was 
to  obey,  and  not  take  measurements.  There  was  a 
flower  in  a  vase  upon  the  sill.  He  quietly  removed  it, 
and  in  an  instant  more  would  have  leaped,  for  life  or 
death,  when  Cyrirs  voice  thundered  "  Stop  !  " 

"  The  lad  will  pass,  my  Peter.  I  shall  not  be  afraid, 
now,  for  the  secrets  which  he  may  have  overheard." 

Peter  smiled  assent,  looking  all  the  while  as  if  he 
thought  it  a  great  pity  that  the  young  man  had  not  been 
allowed  to  put  talebearing  out  of  his  own  power,  by 
breaking  his  neck. 

"  You  wish  to  see  the  world  ?  Perhaps  you  have 
seen  something  of  it  to-day." 

"  I  saw  the  murder " 

"  Then  you  saw  what  you  came  hither  to  see  ;  what 
the  world  is,  and  what  justice  and  mercy  it  can  deal  out. 
You  would  not  dislike  to  see  God's  reprisals  to  man's 
tyranny  ?  ....  Or  to  be  a  fellow-worker  with  God 
therein,  if  I  judge  rightly  by  your  looks  ?  " 

"  I  would  avenge  tliat  man." 

"  Ah  !  my  poor  simple  schoolmaster  !  And  his  fate 
is  the  portent  of  portents  to  you  now  !  Stay  awhile,  till 
you  have  gone  with  Ezekiel  into  the  inner  chambers  of 
the  Devil's  temple,  and  you  will  see  worse  things  than 
these,  —  women  weeping  for  Thammuz  ;  bemoaning  the 
decay  of  an  idolatry  which  they  themselves  disbelieve. 
That,  too,  is  on  the  list  of  Hercules'  labors,  Peter 
mine." 

At  this  moment  a  deacon  entered "  Your  Holi- 
ness, the  rabbis  of  the  accursed  nation  are  below,  at 
your  summons.  We  brought  them  in  through  the  back 
gate,  for  fear  of " 


A    DAY    IN    ALEXANDRIA.  119 

"  Right,  right.  An  accident  to  them  might  have 
ruined  us.  I  shall  not  forget  you.  Bring  them  up. 
Peter,  take  this  youth,  introduce  him  to  the  parabolani. 
....  Who  will  be  the  best  man  for  him  to  work 
under  ?  " 

"  The  brother  Theopompus  is  especially  sober  and 
gentle." 

Cyril  shook  his  head  laughingly.  ..."  Go  into  the 
next  room,  my  son.  .  .  .  No,  Peter,  put  him  under  some 
fiery  saint,  some  true  Boanerges,  who  will  talk  him 
down,  and  work  him  to  death,  and  show  him  the  best 
and  the  worst  of  every  thing.  Cleitophon  will  be  the 
man.  Now  then,  let  me  see  mv  engagements :  five 
minutes  for  these  Jews,  —  Orestes  did  not  choose  to 
frighten  them  :  let  us  see  whether  Cyril  cannot ;  then 
an  hour  to  look  over  the  hospital  accounts  ;  an  hour  for 
the  schools;  a  half-hour  for  the  reserved  cases  of  dis- 
tress;  and  another  half-hour  for  myself;  and  then  di- 
vine service.  See  that  the  boy  is  there.  Do  bring  in 
every  one  in  their  turn,  Peter  mine.  So  much  time 
goes  in  hunting  for  this  man  and  that  man  ....  and  life 
is  too  short  for  all  that.  Where  are  these  Jews  ?  "  and 
Cyril  plunged  into  the  latter  half  of  his  day's  work  with 
that  untiring  energy,  self-sacrifice,  and  method  which 
commanded  for  him,  in  spite  of  all  suspicions  of  his  vio- 
lence, ambition,  and  intrigue,  the  loving  awe  and  im- 
plicit obedience  of  several  hundred  thousand  human 
beings. 

So  Philammon  went  out  with  the  parabolani,  a  sort  of 
organized  guild  of  district  visitors  ....  And  in  their 
company  he  saw  that  afternoon  the  dark  side  of  that 
world,  whereof  the  harbor-panorama  had  been  the  bright 
one.     In  squalid  misery,  filth,  profligacy,  ignorance,  fe- 


120  HYPATIA. 

rocity,  discontent,  neglected  in  body,  house,  and  soul, 
by  the  civil  authorities,  proving  their  existence  only  in 
aimless  and  sanguinary  riots,  there  they  starved  and 
rotted,  heap  on  heap,  the  masses  of  the  old  Greek  popu- 
lation, close  to  the  great  food -exporting  harbor  of  the 
world.  Among  these,  fiercely  i)erhaps,  and  fanatically, 
but  still  among  them,  and  for  them,  labored  those  district 
visitors,  night  and  day.  And  so  Philammon  toiled  away 
with  them,  carrying  food  and  clothing,  helping  sick  to 
the  hospital,  and  dead  to  the  burial  ;  cleaning  out  the 
infected  houses,  —  for  the  fever  was  all  but  perennial 
in  those  quarters,  —  and  comforting  the  dying  with  the 
good  news  of  forgiveness  from  above  ;  till  the  larger 
number  had  to  return  for  evening  service.  He,  how- 
ever, was  kept  by  his  superior,  watching  at  a  sick  bed- 
side, and  it  was  late  at  night  before  he  got  home,  and 
was  reported  to  Peter  the  Reader  as  having  acquitted 
himself  like  "  a  man  of  God,"  as,  indeed,  without  the 
least  thought  of  doing  any  thing  noble  or  self-sacrificing, 
he  had  truly  done,  being  a  monk.  And  so  he  threw 
himself  on  a  truckle  bed,  in  one  of  the  many  cells  which 
opened  off  a  long  corridor,  and  fell  fast  asleep  in  a 
minute. 

He  was  just  weltering  about  in  a  dreary  dream-jumble 
of  Goths  dancing  with  district  visitors,  Pelagia  as  an 
angel,  with  peacock's  wings ;  Hypatia  with  horns  and 
cloven  feet,  riding  three  hippopotami  at  once  round  the 
theatre ;  Cyril  standing  at  an  open  window,  cursing 
frightfully,  and  pelting  him  with  flower-pots;  and  a  sim- 
ilar self-sown  after-crop  of  his  day's  impressions  ;  when 
he  was  awakened  by  the  tramp  of  hurried  feet  in  the 
street  outside,  and  shouts,  which  gradually,  as  he  be- 
came conscious,  shaped  themselves  into  cries  of  "  Alex- 


A    DAY    IN    ALEXANDRIA.  121 

ander's  church  is  on  fire  !  Help,  good  Christians ! 
Fire  !     Help  !  " 

Whereat  he  sat  up  in  his  truckle-bed,  tried  to  recol- 
lect where  he  was,  and  having  with  some  trouble  suc- 
ceeded, threw  on  his  sheep-skin,  and  jumped  up  to  ask 
the  news  .from  the  deacons  and  monks  who  were  hurry- 
ing along  the  corridor  outside.  "  Yes,  Alexander's 
church  was  on  fire  "  ;  and  down  the  stairs  they  poured, 
across  the  court-yard,  and  out  into  the  street,  Peter's 
tall  figure  serving  as  a  standard  and  rallying-point. 

As  they  rushed  out  through  the  gateway,  Philammon, 
dazzled  by  the  sudden  transition  from  the  darkness 
within  to  the  blaze  of  moon  and  star  light  which  flood- 
ed the  street,  the  walls,  and  shining  roofs,  hung  back  a 
moment.  That  hesitation  probably  saved  his  life  ;  for  in 
an  instant  he  saw  a  dark  figure  spring  out  of  the  shad- 
ow, a  long  knife  flashed  across  his  eyes,  and  a  priest 
next  to  him  sunk  upon  the  pavement  with  a  groan, 
while  the  assassin  dashed  off'  down  the  street,  hotly  pur- 
sued by  monks  and  parabolani. 

Philammon,  who  ran  like  a  desei't  ostrich,  had  soon 
outstripped  all  but  Peter,  when  several  more  dark  fiw. 
ures  sprang  out  of  doorways  and  corners,  and  joined, 
or  seemed  to  join,  the  pursuit.  Suddenly,  however, 
after  running  a  hundred  yards,  they  drew  up  opposite 
the  mouth  of  a  side  street ;  the  assassin  stopped  also. 
Peter,  suspecting  something  wrong,  slackened  his  pace, 
and  caught  Philammon's  arm. 

"  Do  you  see  those  fellows  in  the  shadow  ?  " 

But,  before  Philammon  could  answer,  some  thirty  or 
forty  men,  their  daggers  gleaming  in  the  moonlight, 
moved  out  into  the  middle  of  the  street,  and  received 
the  fugitives  into  their  ranks.     What  was  the  meaning 

VOL.    I.  9 


122  HYPATIA. 

of  it  ?     Here  was  a  pleasant  taste  of  the  ways  of  the 
most  Christian  and  civilized  city  of  the  Empire  ! 

"  Well,"  thought  Philammon,  "  I  have  come  out  to 
see  the  world,  and  I  seem,  at  this  rate,  to  be  likely  to 
see  enough  of  it." 

Peter  turned  at  once,  and  fled  as  quickly  as  he  had 
pursued ;  while  Philammon,  considering  discretion  the 
better  part  of  valor,  followed,  and  they  rejoined  their 
party,  breathless. 

"  There  is  an  armed  mob  at  the  end  of  the  street." 

"  Assassins  !  "  "  Jews  !  "  "A  conspiracy  !  "  Up 
rose  a  Babel  of  doubtful  voices.  The  foe  appeared  in 
sight,  advancing  stealthily,  and  the  whole  party  took  to 
flight,  led  once  more  by  Peter,  who  seemed  determined 
to  make  free  use,  in  behalf  of  his  own  safety,  of  the 
long  legs  which  nature  had  given  him. 

Philammon  followed,  sulkily  and  unwillingly,  at  a 
foot's  pace  ;  but  he  had  not  gone  a  dozen  yards  when 

a  pitiable  voice  at  his  feet  called  to  him, 

,  "  Help  !    mercy  !     Do  not  leave  me  here  to  be  mur- 
dered !     lama  Christian  ;  indeed  I  am  a  Christian  ! '' 

Philammon  stooped,  and  lifted  from  the  ground  a 
comely  negro-woman,  weeping,  and  shivering  in  a  few 
tattered  remnants  of  clothing. 

"  I  ran  out  when  they  said  the  church  was  on  fire," 
sobbed  the  poor  creature,  "  and  the  Jews  beat  and 
wounded  me.  They  tore  my  shawl  and  tunic  off  me 
before  I  could  get  away  from  them  ;  and  then  our  own 
people  ran  over  me,  and  trod  me  down.  And  now  my 
husband  will  beat  me,  if  I  ever  get  home.  Quick  !  up 
this  side  street,  or  we  shall  be  murdered  ! " 

The  armed  men,  whosoever  they  were,  were  close 
on  them.     There  was  no  time  to  be  lost ;  and  Philam- 


A    DAY    IN    ALEXANDRIA.  123 

mon,  assuring  her  that  he  would  not  desert  her,  hurried 
her  up  the  side  street  which  she  pointed  out.  But  the 
pursuers  had  caught  sight  of  them,  and  while  the  mass 
held  on  up  the  main  street,  three  or  four  turned  aside 
and  gave  chase.  The  poor  negress  could  only  limp 
along,  and  Philammon,  unarmed,  looked  back,  and  saw 
the  bright  steel  points  gleaming  in  the  moonlight,  and 
made  up  his  mind  to  die  as  a  monk  should.  Neverthe- 
less, youth  is  hopeful.  One  chance  for  life  !  He  thrust 
the  negress  into  a  dark  doorway,  where  her  color  hid 
her  well  enough,  and  had  just  time  to  ensconce  himself 
behind  a  pillar,  when  the  foremost  pursuer  reached  him. 
He  held  his  breath  in  fearful  suspense.  Should  he  be 
seen .''  He  would  not  die  without  a  struggle,  at  least. 
No  !  the  fellow  ran  on,  panting.  But  in  a  minute  more, 
another  came  up,  saw  him  suddenly,  and  sprang  aside 
startled.  That  start  saved  Philammon.  Quick  as  a 
cat,  he  leaped  upon  him,  felled  him  to  the  earth  with  a 
single  blow,  tore  the  dagger  from  his  hand,  and  sprang 
to  his  feet  again  just  in  time  to  strike  his  new  weapon 
full  into  the  third  pursuer's  face.  The  man  put  his 
hand  to  his  head,  and  recoiled  against  a  fellow-ruffian, 
who  was  close  on  his  heels.  Philammon,  flushed  with 
victory,  took  advantage  of  the  confusion,  and  before  the 
worthy  pair  could  recover,  dealt  them  half  a  dozen 
blows  which,  luckily  for  them,  came  from  an  unprac- 
tised hand,  or  the  young  monk  might  have  had  more 
than  one  life  to  answer  for.  As  it  was,  they  turned 
and  limped  off",  cursing  in  an  unknown  tongue  ;  and 
Philammon  found  himself  triumphant  and  alone,  with 
the  trembling  negress  and  the  prostrate  ruffian,  who, 
stunned  by  the  blow  and  the  fall,  lay  groaning  on  the 
pavement. 


124  HYPATIA. 

It  was  all  over  in  a  minute The  negrcss  was 

kneeling  under  the  gateway,  pouring  out  her  simple 
thanks  to  Heaven  for  this  unexpected  deliverance  ;  and 
Philammon  was  about  to  kneel  too,  when  a  thought 
struck  him  ;  and  coolly  despoiling  the  Jew  of  his  shawl 
and  sash,  he  handed  them  over  to  the  poor  negress,  con- 
sidering them  fairly  enough  as  his  own  by  right  of  con- 
quest :  but,  lo  and  behold  !  as  she  was  overwhelming 
him  with  thanks,  ,a  fresh  mob  poured  into  the  street 
from  the  upper  end,  and  were  close  on  them  before 

they  were  aware A  flush  of  terror  and  despair, 

....  and  then  a  burst  of  joy,  as,  by  mingled  moon- 
light and  torchlight,  Philammon  descried  priestly  robes, 
and  in  the  fore-front  of  the  battle  —  there  being  no  ap- 
parent danger — Peter  the  Reader,  who  seemed  to  be 
anxious  to  prevent  inquiry,  by  beginning  to  talk  as  fast 
as  possible. 

"  Ah,  boy  !  Safe  ?  The  saints  be  praised  !  We 
gave  you  up  for  dead  !  Who  have  you  here  ?  A 
prisoner  }  And  we  have  another.  He  ran  right  into 
our  arms  up  the  street,  and  the  Lord  delivered  him  into 
our  hand.     He  must  have  passed  you." 

"  So  he  did,"  said  Philammon,  dragging  up  his  cap- 
tive, "  and  here  is  his  fellow-scoundrel."  Whereon 
the  two  worthies  were  speedily  tied  together  by  the 
elbows ;  and  the  party  marched  on  once  more  in  search 
of  Alexander's  church,  and  the  supposed  conflagration. 

Philammon  looked  round  for  the  negress,  but  she  had 
vanished.  He  was  far  too  much  ashamed  of  being 
known  to  have  been  alone  witli  a  woman  to  say  any 
thing  about  her.  Yet  he  longed  to  see  her  again  ;  an 
interest  —  even  something  like  an  affection  —  had  al- 
ready sprung  up  in  his  heart  toward  the  poor  simple 


A    DAY    IN    ALEXANDRIA.  125 

creature  whom  he  had  delivered  from  death.  Instead 
of  thinking  her  ungrateful  for  not  staying  to  tell  what 
he  had  done  for  her,  he  was  thankful  to  her  for  having 

saved  his  blushes,  by  disappearing  so  opportunely 

And  he  longed  to  tell  her  so,  —  to   know   if  she  was 

hurt,  —  to .     O  Philammon  !    only  four  days  from 

the  Laura,  and  a  whole  regiment  of  women  acquaint- 
ances already  !  True,  Providence  having  sent  into  the 
world  about  as  many  women  as  men,  it  may  be  diffi- 
cult to  keep  out  of  their  way  altogether.  Perhaps,  too, 
Providence  may  have  intended  them  to  be  of  some  use 
to  that  other  sex,  with  whom  it  has  so  mixed  them  up. 
Don't  argue,  poor  P^hilammon  ;  Alexander's  church  is 
on  fire  !  —  forward  ! 

And  so  they  hurried  on,  a  confused  mass  of  monks- 
and  populace,  with  their  hapless  prisoners  in  the  centre, 
who,  hauled,  cuffed,  questioned,  and  cursed,  by  twenty 
self-elected  inquisitors  at  once,  thought  fit,  either  from 
Jewish  obstinacy,  or  sheer  bewilderment,  to  give  no 
account  whatsoever  of  themselves. 

As  they  turned  the  corner  of  a  street,  the  folding- 
doors  of  a  large  gateway  rolled  open  ;  a  long  lane  of 
glittering  figures  poured  across  the  road,  dropped  their 
spear-buts  on  the  pavement  with  a  single  rattle,  and 
remained  motionless.  The  front  rank  of  the  mob  re- 
coiled ;  and  an  awestruck  whisper  ran  through  them. 
.  ..."  The  Stationaries  !  " 

"  Who  are  they  ?  "   asked  Philammon,  in  a  whisper. 

"The  soldiers,  —  the  Roman  soldiers,"  answered  a 
whisperer  to  him. 

Philammon,  who  was  among  the  leaders,  had  re- 
coiled too,  —  he  hardly  knew  why,  —  at  that  stern  ap- 
parition.     His  next  instinct  was  to  press  forward  as 


126  HYPATIA. 

close  as  he  dared And  these  were  Roman  sol- 
diers !  —  the  conquerors  of  the  world  !  —  the  men  whose 
name  had  thrilled  him  from  his  childhood  with  vague 
awe  and  admiration,  dimly  heard  of  up  there  in  the 

lonely  Laura Roman  soldiers  !     And  here  he 

was  face  to  face  with  them  at  last ! 

His  curiosity  received  a  sudden  check,  however,  as 
he  found  his  arm  seized  by  an  officer,  as  he  took  him 
to  be,  from  the  gold  ornaments  on  his  helmet  and  cui- 
rass, who  lifted  his  vine-stock  threateningly  over  the 
young  monk's  head,  and  demanded,  — 

"  What 's  all  this  about  ?  Why  are  you  not  quietly 
in  your  beds,  you  Alexandrian  rascals  ?  " 

"  Alexander's  church  is  on  fire,"  answered  Philam- 
mon,  thinking  the  shortest  answer  the  wisest. 

"  So  much  the  better." 

"  And  the  Jews  are  murdering  the  Christians." 

"  Fight  it  out,  then.     Turn  in,  men,  it 's  only  a  riot." 

And  the  steel-clad  apparition  suddenly  flashed  round, 
and  vanished,  trampling  and  jingling  into  the  dark  jaws 
of  the  guard-house  gate,  while  the  stream,  its  temporary 
barrier  removed,  rushed  on  wilder  than  ever. 

Philammon  hurried  on  too  with  them,  not  without  a 
strange  feeling  of  disappointment.  "  Only  a  riot !  " 
Peter  was  chuckling  to  his  brothers  over  their  clever- 
ness in  "  having  kept  the  pi'isoners  in  the  middle,  and 
stopped  the  rascals'  mouths  till  they  were  past  the 
guard-house."  "  A  fine  thing  to  boast  of,"  thought 
Philammon,  "  in  the  face  of  the  men  who  make  and 
unmake  kings  and  Cojsars !  "  "Only  a  riot!"  He, 
and  the  corps  of  district  visitors,  —  whom  he  fancied 
the  most  august  body  on  earth,  —  and  Alexander's 
church,  Christians  murdered   by  Jews,  persecution    of 


A    DAY    IN    ALEXANDRIA.  127 

the  Catholic  faith,  and  all  the  rest  of  it,  was  simply, 
then,  not  worth  the  notice  of  those  forty  men,  alone 
and  secure  in  the  sense  of  power  and  discipline  among 

tens  of  thousands He  hated  them,  those  soldiers. 

Was  it  because  they  were  indifferent  to  the  cause  of 
the  Church  .?....  or  because  they  were  indifferent  to 
the  cause  of  which  he  was  inclined  to  think  himself  a 
not  unimportant  member,  on  the  strength  of  his  late 
Samsonic  defeat  of  Jewish  persecutors  ?  At  least,  he 
obeyed  the  little  porter's  advice,  and  "  felt  very  small 
indeed." 

And  he  felt  smaller  still,  being  young  and  alive  to 
ridicule,  when,  at  some  sudden  ebb  or  flow,  wave  or 
wavelet,  of  the  Babel  sea,  which  weltered  up  and  down 
every  street,  a  shrill  female  voice  informed  them  from 
an  upper  window,  that  Alexander's  church  was  not  on 
fire  at  all  ;  that  she  had  gone  to  the  top  of  the  house, 
as  they  might  have  gone,  if  they  had  not  been  fools, 
&c.,  &c. ;  and  that  it  "  looked  as  safe  and  as  ugly 
as  ever  "  ;  wherewith,  a  brickbat  or  two  having  been 
sent  up  in  answer,  she  shut  the  blinds,  leaving  them  to 
halt,  inquire,  discover  gradually  and  piecemeal,  after 
the  method  of  mobs,  they  had  been  following  the  nature 
of  mobs ;  that  no  one  had  seen  the  church  on  fire,  or 
seen  any  one  else  who  had  seen  the  same,  or  even  seen 
any  light  in  the  sky  in  any  quarter,  or  knew  who  raised 
the  cry;  or  —  or  —  in  short,  Alexander's  church  was 
two  miles  off;  if  it  was  on  fire,  it  was  either  burnt 
down  or  saved  by  this  time  ;  if  not,  the  night-air  was, 
to  say  the  least,  chilly  :  and,  whether  it  was  or  not, 
there  were  ambuscades  of  Jews  —  Satan   only   knew 

how  strong  —  in  every  street  between  them  and  it 

Might  it  not  be  better  to  secure  their  two  prisoners,  and 


128 


HYPATIA. 


tlien  ask  for  further  orders  from  the  archbishop  ? 
Wherewith,  after  the  manner  of  mobs,  they  melted  off 
the  way  they  came,  by  twos  and  threes,  till  those  of  a 
contrary  opinion  began  to  find  themselves  left  alone, 
and  having  a  strong  dislike  to  Jewish  daggers,  were 
fain  to  follow  the  stream. 

With  a  panic  or  two,  a  cry  of  "The  Jews  arc  on 
us!"  and  a  general  rush  in  every  direction,  (in  which 
one  or  two,  seeking  shelter  from  the  awful  nothing  in 
neighboring  houses,  were  handed  over  to  the  watch  as 
burglars,  and  sent  to  the  quarries  accordingly,)  they 
reached  the  Serapeium,  and  there  found,  of  course,  a 
counter-mob  collected  to  inform  them  that  they  had 
been  taken  in,  —  that  Alexander's  church  had  never 
been  on  fire  at  all,  —  that  the  Jews  had  murderod  a 
thousand  Christians  at  least,  though  three  dead  bodies, 
including  the  poor  priest  who  lay  in  the  house  within, 
were  all  of  the  thousand  who  had  yet  been  seen,  —  and 
that  the  whole  Jews'  quarter  was  marching  upon  them. 
At  which  news,  it  was  considered  advisable  to  retreat 
into  the  archbishop's  house  as  quickly  as  possible,  bar- 
ricade the  doors,  and  prepare  for  a  siege, —  a  work  at 
which  Philammon  performed  prodigies,  tearing  wood- 
work from  the  rooms,  and  stones  from  the  parapets, 
before  it  struck  some  of  the  more  sober-minded  that  it 
was  as  well  to  wait  for  some  more  decided  demonstra- 
tion of  attack  before  incurring  so  heavy  a  -carpenter's 
bill  of  repairs. 

At  last  the  heavy  tramp  of  footsteps  was  heard  com- 
ing down  the  street,  and  every  window  was  crowded  in 
an  instant  with  eager  heads  ;  while  Peter  rushed  down 
stairs  to  heat  the  large  coppers,  having  some  experience 
in  the  defensive  virtues  of  boiling  water.     The  bright 


H  A    DAY    IN    ALEXANDRIA.  129 

moon  glittered  on  a  long  line  of  helmets  and  cuirasses. 
Thank  Heaven  !  it  was  the  soldiery. 

"Are  the  Jews  coming?"  "Is  the  city  quiet?" 
"  Why  did  not  you  prevent  this  villany  ?  "  "  A  thou- 
sand citizens  murdered  while  you  have  been  snoring  !  " 
—  and  a  volley  of  similar  ejaculations,  greeted  the  sol- 
diers as  they  passed,  and  were  answered  by  a  cool  — 
"  To  your  perches,  and  sleep,  you  noisy  chickens,  or 
we  '11  set  the  coop  on  fire  about  your  ears  ?  " 

A  yell  of  defiance  answered  this  polite  speech,  and 
the  soldiery,  who  knew  perfectly  well  that  the  unarmed 
ecclesiastics  within  were  not  to  be  trifled  with,  and  had 
no  ambition  to  die  by  coping-stones  and  hot  water,  went 
quietly  on  their  way. 

All  danger  was  now  passed  ;  and  the  cackling  rose 
jubilant,  louder  than  ever,  and  might  have  continued  till 
daylight,  had  not  a  window  in  the  court-yard  been  sud- 
denly thrown  open,  and  the  awful  voice  of  Cyril  com- 
manded silence. 

"  Every  man  sleep  where  he  can.  I  shall  want  you 
at  daybreak.  The  superiors  of  the  parabolani  are  to 
come  up  to  me  with  the  two  prisoners,  and  the  men 
who  took  them." 

In  a  few  minutes  Philammon  found  himself,  with 
some  twenty  others,  in  the  great  man's  presence  :  he 
was  sitting  at  his  desk,  writing,  quietly,  small  notes  on 
slips  of  paper. 

"  Here  is  the  youth  who  helped  me  to  pursue  the 
murderer,  and,  having  outrun  me,  was  attacked  by  the 
prisoners,"  said  Peter.  "  My  hands  are  clean  from 
blood,  I  thank  the  Lord  !  " 

"  Three  set  on  me  with  daggers,"  said  Philammon, 
apologetically,  "  and  I  was  forced  to  take  this  one's 
dagger  away,  and  beat  off'  the  two  others  with  it." 


130  HYPATIA. 

Cyril  smiled,  and  shook  his  head. 

"  Thou  art  a  brave  boy  ;  but  hast  thou  not  read,  '  If 
a  man  smite  thee  on  one  cheek,  turn  to  him  the 
other '  ?  " 

"  I  could  not  run  away,  as  Master  Peter  and  the  rest 
did." 

"  So  you  ran  away,  eh  }   my  worthy  friend  ?  " 

"  Is  it  not  written,"  asked  Peter,  in  his  blandest  tone, 
'  If  they  persecute  you  in  one  city,  flee  unto  an- 
other '  ?  " 

Cyril  smiled  again.  "  And  why  could  not  you  run 
away,  boy  ?  " 

Philammon  blushed  scarlet,  but  he  dared  not  lie. 
"There  was  a  —  a  poor  black  woman,  wounded  and 
trodden  down,  and  I  dare  not  leave  her,  for  she  told  me 
she  was  a  Christian." 

"  Right,  my  son,  right.  I  shall  remember  this. 
What  was  her  name  .''  " 

"  I  did  not  hear  it.  —  Stay,  I  think  she  said  Judith." 

"  Ah !  the  wife  of  the  porter  who  stands  at  the  lec- 
ture-room door,  which  God  confound  !  A  devout  wo- 
man, full  of  good  works,  and  sorely  ill-treated  by  her 
heathen  husband.  Peter,  thou  shalt  go  to  her  to-mor- 
row with  the  physician,  and  see  if  she  is  in  need  of  any 
thing.  Boy,  thou  hast  done  well.  Cyril  never  forgets. 
Now  bring  up  those  Jews.  Their  Rabbis  were  with 
me  two  hours  ago  promising  peace  :  and  this  is  the 
way  they  have  kept  their  promise.  So  be  it.  The 
wicked  is  snared  in  his  own  wickedness." 

The  Jews  were  brought  in,  but  kept  a  stubborn  si- 
lence. .  I 

"  Your  holiness  perceives,"  said  some  one,  "  that 
they  have  each  of  them  rings  of  green  palm-bark  on 
their  right  hand." 


A    DAY   IN    ALEXANDRIA.  131 

"  A  very  dangerous  sign  !  An  evident  conspiracy  !  " 
commented  Peter. 

"  Ah  ?  What  does  that  mean,  you  rascals  ?  An- 
,swer  me,  as  you  vakie  your  lives." 

"  You  have  no  business  with  us  :  we  are  Jews,  and 
none  of  your  people,"  said  one,  sulkily. 

"  None  of  my  people  ?  You  have  murdered  my 
people  !  None  of  my  people  !  Every  soul  in  Alexan- 
dria is  mine,  if  the  kingdom  of  God  means  any  thing  ; 
and  you  shall  find  it  out.  I  shall  not  argue  with  you, 
my  good  friends,  any  more  than  I  did  with  your  Rab- 
bis. Take  these  fellows  away,  Peter,  and  lock  them 
up  in  the  fuel-cellar,  and  see  that  they  are  guarded.  If 
any  man  lets  them  go,  his  life  shall  be  for  the  life  of 
them." 

And  the  two  worthies  were  led  out. 

"  Now,  my  brothers,  here  are  your  orders.  You  will 
divide  these  notes  among  yourselves,  and  distribute 
them  to  trusty  and  godly  Catholics  in  your  districts. 
Wait  one  hour,  till  the  city  be  quiet ;  and  then  start, 
and  raise  the  church.  I  must  have  thirty  thousand 
men  by  sunrise." 

"  What  for,  your  holiness  ?  "  asked  a  dozen  voices. 

"  Read  your  notes.  Whosoever  will  fight  to-morrow 
under  the  banner  of  the  Lord,  shall  have  free  plunder 
of  the  Jews'  quarter,  outrage  and  murder  only  forbid- 
den. As  I  have  said  it,  God  do  so  to  me,  and  more 
also,  if  there  be  a  Jew  left  in  Alexandria  by  to-morrow 
at  noon.     Go." 

And  the  staff  of  orderlies  filed  out,  thanking  Heaven 
that  they  had  a  leader  so  prompt  and  valiant,  and  spent 
the  next  hour  over  the  hall  fire,  eating  millet  cakes, 
drinking  bad  beer,  likening  Cyril    to   Barak,   Gideon, 


132 


IIYPATIA. 


Samson,  Jephtlmh,  Judas  Maccabeus,  and  all  the  wor- 
thies of  the  Old  Testament,  and  then  started  on  their 
pacific  errand.  / 

Fhilammon  was  about  to  follow  them,  when  Cyril 
stopped  him. 

"  Stay,  my  son  ;  you  are  young  and  rash,  and  do  not 
know  the  city.  Lie  down  here  and  sleep  in  the  ante- 
room. Three  hours  hence  the  sun  rises,  and  we  go 
forth  against  the  enemies  of  the  Lord." 

Philammon  threw  himself  on  the  floor  in  a  corner, 
and  slumbered  like  a  child,  till  he  was  awakened  in  the 
gray  dawn  by  one  of  the  parabolani. 

"  Up,  boy  !  and  see  what  we  can  do.  Cyril  goes 
down  greater  than  Barak,  the  son  of  Abinoam,  not  with 
ten,  but  with  thirty  thousand  men  at  his  feet !  " 

"  Ay,  my  brothers  !  "  said  Cyril,  as  he  passed  proud- 
ly out  in  full  pontificals,  with  a  gorgeous  retinue  of 
priests  and  deacons,  —  "  the  Catholic  Church  has  her 
organization,  her  unity,  her  common  cause,  her  watch- 
words, such  as  the  tyrants  of  the  earth,  in  their  weak- 
ness and  their  divisions,  may  envy  and  tremble  at,  but 
cannot  imitate.  Could  Orestes  raise,  in  three  hours, 
thirty  thousand  men,  who  would  die  for  him  ?  " 

"  As  we  will  for  you  !  "  shouted  many  voices. 

"  Say  for  the  kingdom  of  God."     And  he  passed  out. 

And  so  ended  Philammon's  first  day  in  Alexandria. 


133 


CHAPTER    VI, 


THE    NEW    DIOGENES. 


About  five  o'clock  the  next  morning,  Raphael  Ahen- 
Ezra  was  lying  in  bed,  alternately  yawning  over  a 
manuscript  of  Philo  Judseus,  pulling  the  ears  of  his  huge 
British  mastiff,  watching  the  sparkle  of  the  fountain  in 
the  court  outside,  wondering  when  that  lazy  boy  would 
come  to  tell  that  the  bath  was  warmed,  and  meditating, 
half  aloud 

"Alas!  poor  me!  Here  I  am,  back  again, — just 
at  the  point  from  which  I  started  !  .  .  .  .  How  am  I  to 
get  free  from  that  heathen  Siren  ?      Plagues  on  her  ! 

I  shall  end  by  falling  in  love  with  her I   don't 

know  that  I  have  not  got  a  barb  of  the  blind  boy  in  me 
already.  I  felt  absurdly  glad  the  other  day  when  that 
fool  told  me  he  dare  not  accept  her  modest  offer.  Ha  ! 
ha  !  A  delicious  joke  it  would  have  been  to  have  seen 
Orestes  bowing  down  to  stocks  and  stones,  and  Hypatia 
installed  in  the  ruins  of  the  Serapeium,  as  High  Priest- 
ess of  the  Abomination  of  Desolation  !  .  .  .  .  And  now 
....  Well :  I  call  all  heaven  and  earth  to  witness,  that 
I  have  fought  valiantly.  I  have  faced  naughty  little 
Eros  like  a  man,  rod  in  hand.     What  could  a  poor  hu- 


134  HYPATIA. 

man  being  do  more  than  try  to  marry  her  to  some  one 
else,  in  hopes  of  sickening  himself  of  the  whole  matter  ! 
Well,  every  moth  has  its  candle,  and  every  man  his 
destiny.  But  the  daring  of  the  little  fool !  What  huge 
imaginations  she  has  !  She  might  be  another  Zenobia, 
now,  with  Orestes  as  Odenatus,  and  Raphael  Aben- 
Ezra  to  play  the  part  of  Longinus  ....  and  receive 
Longinus's  salary  of  axe  or  poison.  She  don't  care  for 
me  ;  she  would  sacrifice  me,  or  a  thousand  of  me,  the 
cold-blooded  fanatical  archangel  that  she  is,  to  water 
with  our  blood  the  foundation  of  some  new  temple  of 

cast  rags  and  broken  dolls O  Raphael  Aben- 

Ezra,  what  a  fool  you  pre You  know  you  are 

going  off  as  usual  to  her  lecture,  this  very  morning  !  " 

At  this  crisis  of  his  confessions  the  page  entered,  and 
announced,  not  the  bath,  but  Miriam. 

The  old  woman,  who,  in  virtue  of  her  profession,  had 
the  private  entry  of  all  fashionable  chambers  in  Alexan- 
dria, came  in  hurriedly ;  and  instead  of  seating  herself 
as  usual,  for  a  gossip,  remained  standing,  and  mo- 
tioned the  boy  out  of  the  room. 

"  Well,  my  sweet  mother  ?  Sit :  Ah  !  I  see  !  You 
rascal,  you  have  brought  in  no  wine  for  the  lady. 
Don't  you  know  her  little  ways  yet  ?  " 

"  Eos  has  got  it  at  the  door,  of  course,"  answered 
the  boy  with  a  saucy  air  of  offended  virtue. 

"  Out  with  you,  imp  of  Satan ! "  cried  Miriam. 
"  This  is  no  time  for  wine-bibbing.  Raphael  Aben- 
Ezra,  why  are  you  lying  here  ?  Did  you  not  receive 
a  note  last  night  ?  " 

"  A  note  ?     So  I  did  :  but  I  was  too  sleepy  to  read  it. 

There  it  lies.    Boy,  bring  it  here What 's  this  ?    A 

scrap  out  of  Jeremiah  ?     '  Arise,  and  flee  for  thy  life,  for 


THE    NEW    DIOGENES.  135 

evil  is  determined  against  the  whole  house  of  Israel ! '  — 
Does  this  come  from  the  chief  rabbi  ?  I  always  took  the 
venerable  father  for  a  sober  man Eh,  Miriam  ?  " 

"  Fool  !  instead  of  laughing  at  the  sacred  words  of 
the  prophets,  get  up  and  obey  them.  I  sent  you  the 
note." 

"  Why  can't  I  obey  them  in  bed  ?  Here  I  am,  read- 
ing hard  at  the  Cabbala,  or  Philo,  —  who  is  stupider 
still,  —  and  what  more  would  you  have  ?  " 

The  old  woman,  unable  to  restrain  her  impatience, 
literally  ran  at  him,  gnashing  her  teeth,  and,  before  he 
was  aware,  dragged  him  out  of  bed  upon  the  floor, 
where  he  stood  meekly  wondering  what  would  come 
next. 

"  Many  thanks,  mother,  for  having  saved  me  the  one 
daily  torture  of  life,  —  getting  out  of  bed  by  one's  own 
exertion."  > 

"  Raphael  Aben-Ezra !  are  you  so  besotted  with 
your  philosophy  and  your  heathenry,  and  your  laziness, 
and  your  contempt  for  God  and  man,  that  you  will  see 
your  nation  given  up  for  a  prey,  and  your  wealth  plun- 
dered by  heathen  dogs  ?  I  tell  you  Cyril  has  sworn 
that  God  shall  do  so  to  him,  and  more  also,  if  there  be 
a  Jew  left  in  Alexandria  by  to-morrow  about  this  time." 

"  So  much  the  better  for  the  Jews,  then,  if  they  are 
half  as  tired  of  this  noisy  Pandemonium  as  I  am.  But 
how  can  I  help  it  ?  Am  I  Queen  Esther,  to  go  to 
Ahasuerus  there  in  the  prefect's  palace,  and  get  him  to 
hold  out  the  golden  sceptre  to  me  ?  " 

"  Fool  !  if  you  had  read  that  note  last  night,  you 
might  have  gone  and  saved  us,  and  your  name  would 
have  been  handed  down  for  ever  from  generation  to 
generation  as  a  second  Mordecai." 


136  HYPATIA. 

"  My  dear  mother,  Ahasuerus  would  have  been  either 
fast  asleep,  or  far  too  drunk  to  listen  to  mc.  Why  did 
you  not  go  yourself?  " 

"  Do  you  suppose  that  I  would  not  have  gone  if  I 
could?  Do  you  fancy  me  a  sluggard  like  yourself? 
At  the  risk  of  my  life  I  have  got  hither  in  time,  if  there 
be  time,  to  save  you." 

"  Well :  shall  I  dress  ?     What  can  be  done  now  ?  ■' 

"  Nothing  !  The  streets  are  blockaded  by  Cyril's 
mob.  —  There!  do  you  hear  the  shouts  and  screams? 
They  are  attacking  the  further  part  of  the  quarter  al- 
ready." 

"  What!  are  they  murdering  them?"  asked  Raphael 
throwing  on  his  pelisse.  "  Because,  if  it  has  really 
come  to  a  practical  joke  of  that  kind,  I  shall  have  the 
greatest  pleasure  in  employing  a  counter-irritant.  Here, 
boy  !     My  sword  and  dagger  !     Quick  !  " 

"  No,  the  hypocrites  !  No  blood  is  to  be  shed,  they 
say,  if  we  make  no  resistance,  and  let  them  pillage. 
Cyril  and  his  monks  are  there,  to  prevent  outrage,  and 
so  forth The  Angel  of  the  Lord  scatter  them  !  " 

The  conversation  was  interrupted  by  the  rushing  in 
of  the  whole  household,  in  an  agony  of  terror  ;  and 
Raphael,  at  last  thoroughly  roused,  went  to  a  window 
which  looked  into  the  street.  The  thoroughfare  was 
full  of  scolding  women  and  screaming  children  ;  while 
men,  old  and  young,  looked  on  at  the  plunder  of  their 
property  with  true  Jewish  doggedness,  too  prudent  to 
resist,  but  too  manful  to  complain ;  while  furniture 
came  flying  out  of  every  window,  and  from  door  after 
door  poured  a  stream  of  rascality,  carrying  off  money,  r 
jewels,  silks,  and  all  the  treasures  which  Jewish  usury 
had  accumulated  during  many  a  generation.     But  un- 


THE    NEW    DIOGENES.  137 

moved  amid  the  roaring  sea  of  plunderers  and  plun- 
dered, stood,  scattered  up  and  down,  Cyril's  spiritual 
»  police,  enforcing,  by  a  word,  an  obedience  which  the 
Roman  soldiers  could  only  have  compelled  by  hard 
blows  of  the  spear-but.  There  was  to  be  no  outrage, 
and  no  outrage  there  was  ;  and  more  than  once  some 
man  in  priestly  robes  hurled  through  the  crowd,  lead- 
ing by  the  hand,  tenderly  enough,  a  lost  child  in  search 
of  its  parents. 

Raphael  stood  watching  silently,  while  Miriam,  who 
had  followed  him  up  stairs,  paced  the  room  in  an  ec- 
stasy of  rage,  calling  vainly  to  him  to  speak  or  act. 

"  Let  me  alone,  mother,"  he  said,  at  last.  "  It  will 
be  full  ten  minutes  more  before  they  pay  me  a  visit, 
and  in  the  mean  time  what  can  one  do  better  than 
watch  the  progress  of  this,  the  little  Exodus  ?  " 

"  Not  like  that  first  one  !  Then  we  went  forth  with 
cymbals  and  songs  to  the  Red  Sea  triumph  !  Then  we 
borrowed,  every  woman  of  her  neighbor,  jewels  of  sil- 
ver, and  jewels  of  gold,  and  raiment." 

"  And  now  we  pay  them  back  again  ;  ....  it  is  but 
fair,  after  all.  We  ought  to  have  listened  to  Jeremiah 
a  thousand  years  ago,  and  never  gone  back  again,  like 
fools,  into  a  country  to  which  we  were  so  deeply  in 
debt." 

"  Accursed  land  !  "  cried  Miriam.  "  In  an  evil  hour 
our  forefathers  disobeyed  the  prophet ;  and  now  we 
reap  the  harvest  of  our  sins  !  —  Our  sons  have  forgotten 
the  faith  of  their  forefathers  for  the  philosophy  of  the 
Gentiles,  and  fill  their  chambers  "  (with  a  contempt- 
uous look  round)  "with  heathen  imagery;  and  our 
daughters  are  —  Look  there  !  " 

As  she  spoke,  a  beautiful  girl  rushed  shrieking  out 

VOL.    I.  10 


138  HYPATIA. 

of  an  adjoining  house,  followed  by  some  half-drunk 
ruffian,  who  was  clutching  at  the  gold  chains  and  trin- 
kets with  which  she  was  profusely  bedecked,  after  the 
fashion  of  Jewish  women.  The  rascal  had  just  seized 
with  one  hand  her  streaming  black  tresses,  and  with 
the  other  a  heavy  collar  of  gold,  which  was  wound 
round  her  throat,  when  a  priest,  stepping  up,  laid  a 
quiet  hand  upon  his  shoulder.  The  fellow,  too  mad- 
dened to  obey,  turned,  and  struck  back  the  restraining 
arm  ....  and  in  an  instant  was  felled  to  the  earth  by  a 
young  monk 

"  Touchest  thou  the  Lord's  anointed,  sacrilegious 
wretch  ?  "  cried  the  man  of  the  desert,  as  the  fellow 
dropped  on  the  pavement,  with  his  booty  in  his  hand. 

The  monk  tore  the  gold  necklace  from  his  grasp, 
looked  at  it  for  a  moment  with  childish  wonder,  as  a 
savage  might  at  some  incomprehensible  product  of  civ- 
ilized industry,  and  then,  spitting  on  it  in  contempt, 
dashed  it  on  the  ground,  and  trampled  it  into  the  mud. 

"  Follow  the  golden  wedge  of  Achan,  and  the  silver 
of  Iscariot,  thou  root  of  all  evil  !  "  And  he  rushed  on, 
yelling,  "  Down  with  the  circumcision  !  Down  with 
the  blasphemers  !  "  —  while  the  poor  girl  vanished 
among  the  crowd. 

Raphael  watched  him  with  a  quaint,  thoughtful  smile, 
while  Miriam  shrieked  aloud  at  the  destruction  of  the 
precious  trumpery. 

"  The  monk  is  right,  mother.  If  those  Christians  go 
on  upon  that  method,  they  must  beat  us.  It  has  been 
our  ruin  from  the  first,  our  fancy  for  loading  ourselves 
with  the  thick  clay." 

"  What  will  you  do  ?  "  cried  ^liriam,  clutching  him 
by  the  arm. 


THE    NEW    DIOGENES.  139 

"  What  will  you  do  ?  " 

"  I  am  safe.  I  have  a  boat  waiting  for  me  on  the 
canal  at  the  garden  gate,  and  in  Alexandria  I  stay  ;  no 
Christian  hound  shall  make  old  Miriam  move  a  foot 
against  her  will.  My  jewels  are  all  buried,  —  my  girls 
all  sold  ;  save  what  you  can,  and  come  with  me  !  " 

"  My  sweet  mother,  why  so  peculiarly  solicitous 
about  my  welfare,  above  that  of  all  the  sons  of  Ju- 
dah  ?  " 

"  Because  —  because  —  No,  I  '11  tell  you  that  an- 
other time.  But  I  loved  your  mother,  and  she  loved 
me.     Come  !  " 

Raphael  relapsed  into  silence  for  a  few  minutes,  and 
watched  the  tumult  below. 

"  How  those  Christian  priests  keep  their  men  in  or- 
der !  There  is  no  use  resisting  destiny.  They  are  the 
strong  men  of  the  time,  after  all ;  and  the  little  Exodus 
must  needs  have  its  course.  Miriam,  daughter  of  Jon- 
athan   " 

"  I  am  no  man's  daughter  !  I  have  neither  father 
nor  mother,  husband  nor Call  me  mother  again  !  " 

"  Whatsoever  I  am  to  call  you,  there  are  jewels 
enough  in  that  closet  to  buy  half  Alexandria.  Take 
them.     I  am  going." 

"  With  me  ?  " 

"  Out  into  the  wide  world,  my  dear  lady.  I  am 
bored  with  riches.  That  young  savage  of  a  monk 
understood  them  better  than  we  Jews  do.  I  shall  just 
make  a  virtue  of  necessity,  and  turn  beggar." 

"Beggar?" 

"  Why  not  ?  Don't  argue.  These  scoundrels  will 
make  me  one,  whether  I  like  or  not ;  so.  forth  I  go. 
There  will  be  few  leave-takings.     This  brute  of  a  dos 


140  HYPATIA. 

is  the  only  friend  I  have  on  earth ;  and  I  love  her,  be- 
cause she  has  the  true  old,  dogged,  spiteful,  cunning, 
obstinate  Maccabee  spirit  in  her,  —  of  which  if  we  had 
a  spark  left  in  us  just  now,  there  would  be  no  little 
Exodus ;  eh,  Bran,  my  beauty  ?  " 

"  You  can  escape  with  me  to  the  prefect's,  and  save 
the  mass  of  your  wealth." 

"  Exactly  what  I  don't  want  to  do,  I  hate  that  pre- 
fect as  I  hate  a  dead  camel,  or  the  vulture  who  eats 
him.  And  to  tell  the  truth,  I  am  growing  a  great  deal 
too  fond  of  that  heathen  woman  there " 

"  What  ?  "  shrieked  the  old  woman,  —  "  Hypatia  ? " 

"  If  you  choose.  At  all  events  the  easiest  way  to 
cut  the  knot  is  to  expatriate.  I  shall  beg  my  passage 
on  board  the  first  ship  to  Cyrene,  and  go  and  study  life 
in  Italy  with  Heraclian's  expedition.  Quick,  —  take 
the  jewels,  and  breed  fresh  troubles  for  yourself  with 
them.  I  am  going.  My  liberators  are  battering  the 
outer  door  already." 

Miriam  greedily  tore  out  of  the  closet  diamonds  and 
pearls,  rubies  and  emeralds,  and  concealed  them  among 
her  ample  robes  :  — "  Go  !  go  !  Escape  from  her  ! 
I  will  hide  your  jewels  !  " 

"  Ay,  hide  them,  as  mother  earth  docs  all  things, 
in  that  all-embracing  bosom.  You  will  have  doubled 
them  before  we  meet  again,  no  doubt.  Farewell, 
mother  !  " 

"  But  not  for  ever,  Raphael !  not  for  ever  !  Promise 
me,  in  the  name  of  the  four  archangels,  that,  if  you  are 
in  trouble  or  danger,  you  will  write  to  me,  at  the  house 
of  Eudaimon." 

"  The  little  porter  philosopher,  who  hangs  about 
Hypatia's  lecture-room  ?  " 


,  THE    NEW    DIOGENES.  141 

"  The  same,  the  same.  He  will  give  me  your  letter, 
and  I  swear  to  you,  I  will  cross  the  mountains  of  Kaf  to 
deliver  you  !  —  I  will  pay  you  all  back.  By  Abraham, 
Isaac,  and  Jacob  I  swear !  May  my  tongue  cleave  to 
the  roof  of  my  mouth,  if  I  do  not  account  to  you  for 
the  last  penny  !  " 

"  Don't  commit  yourself  to  rash  promises,  my  dear 
lady.  If  I  am  bored  with  poverty,  I  can  but  borrow  a 
few  gold  pieces  of  a  rabbi,  and  turn  peddler.  I  really 
do  not  trust  you  to  pay  me  back,  so  I  shall  not  be  dis- 
appointed if  you  do  not.     Why  should  I  ?  " 

"  Because  —  because  —  O  God  !  No,  —  never  mind  ! 
You  shall  have  all  back.  Spirit  of  Elias !  where  is 
the  black  agate .''  Why  is  it  not  among  these .''  — 
The  broken  half  of  the  black  agate  talisman  ?  " 

Raphael  turned  pale.  "  How  did  you  know  that  I 
have  a  black  agate  ?  " 

"  How  did  I  >  How  did  I  not  ?  "  cried  she,  clutch- 
ing him  by  the  arm.  "  Where  is  it  ?  All  depends  on 
that !  Fool !  "  she  went  on,  throwing  him  off  from  her 
at  arm's  length,  as  a  sudden  suspicion  stung  her, — 
"  you  have  not  given  it  to  the  heathen  woman  ?  " 

"  By  the  soul  of  my  fathers,  then,  you  mysterious 
old  witch,  who  seem  to  know  every  thing,  that  is 
exactly  what  I  have  done." 

Miriam  clapped  her  hands  together  wildly.  "  Lost  ! 
lost !  lost !  No  !  I  will  have  it,  if  I  tear  it  out  of  her 
heart !  I  will  be  avenged  of  her,  —  the  strange  woman 
who  flatters  with  her  words,  to  whom  the  simple  go  in, 
and  know  not  that  the  dead  are  there,  and  that  her 
guests  are  in  the  depths  of  hell !  God  do  so  to  me,  and 
more  also,  if  she  and  her  sorceries  be  on  earth  a  twelve- 
month hence  1  " 


142  HYPATIA. 

"  Silence,  Jezebel  !  Heathen  or  none,  she  is  as 
pure  as  the  sunlight !  I  only  gave  it  her  because  she 
fancied  the  talisman  upon  it." 

"  To  enchant  you  with  it,  to  your  ruin  !  " 

"  Brute  of  a  slave-dealer  !  you  fancy  every  one  as 
base  as  the  poor  wretches  whom  you  buy  and  sell  to 
shame,  that  you  may  make  them  as  much  the  children 
of  hell,  if  that  be  possible,  as  yourself!  " 

Miriam  looked  at  him,  her  large  black  eyes  widening 
and  kindling.  J^or  an  instant  she  felt  for  her  poniard  — 
and  then  burst  into  an  agony  of  tears,  hid  her  face  in 
her  withered  hands,  and  rushed  from  the  room,  as  a 
crash  and  shout  below  announced  the  bursting  of  the 
door. 

"  There  she  goes,  with  my  jewels.  And  here  come 
my  guests,  with  the  young  monk  at  their  head.  —  One 
rising  when  the  other  sets.  A  worthy  pair  of  Dioscuri ! 
Come,  Bran  !  .  .  .  .  Boys  !  Slaves !  Where  are  you  ? 
Steal  every  one  what  he  can  lay  his  hands  on,  and  run 
for  your  lives  through  the  back  gate." 

The  slaves  had  obeyed  him  already.  He  walked 
smilingly  down, stairs  through  utter  solitude,  and  in  the 
front  passage  met  face  to  face  the  mob  of  monks, 
costermongers  and  dock-workers,  fishwives  and  beggars, 
who  were  thronging  up  the  narrow  entry,  and  bursting 
into  the  doors  right  and  left ;  and  at  their  head,  alas  ! 
the  young  monk  who  had  just  trampled  the  necklace 
into  the  mud  ....  no  other,  in  fact,  than  Philammon. 

"  Welcome,  my  worthy  guests !  Enter,  I  beseech 
you,  and  fulfil,  in  your  own  peculiar  way,  the  precepts 
which  bid  you  not  be  over-anxious  for  the  good  things 

of  this  life For  eafing  and  drinking,  my  kitchen 

and  cellar  are  at  your  service.     For  clothing,  if  any 


THE    NEW    DIOGENES.  143 

illustrious  personage  will  do  me  the  honor  to  change 
his  holy  rags  with  me,  here  are  an  Indian  shawl- 
pelisse  and  a  pair  of  silk  trousers  at  his  service.  Per- 
haps you  will  accommodate  me,  my  handsome  young 
captain,  choragus  of  this  new  school  of  the  prophets  ?  " 

Philammon,  who  was  the  person  addressed,  tried  to 
push  by  him  contemptuously. 

"  Allow  me,  sir.  I  lead  the  way.  This  dagger  is 
poisoned,  —  a  scratch  and  you  are  dead.  Thi  dog  is  of 
the  true  British  breed  ;  if  she  seizes  you,  red-hot  iron 
will  not  loose  her,  till  she  hears  the  bone  crack.  If 
any  one  will  change  clothes  with  me,  all  I  have  is  at 
your  service.     If  not,  the  first  that  stirs  is  a  dead  man." 

There  was  no  mistaking  the  quiet  high-bred  deter- 
mination of  the  speaker.  Had  he  raged  and  blustered, 
Philammon  could  have  met  him  on  his  own  ground  :  but 
there  was  an  easy  self-possessed  disdain  about  him,  which 
utterly  abashed  the  young  monk,  and  abashed,  too,  the 
whole  crowd  of  rascals  at  his  heels. 

"  I  '11  change  clothes  with  you,  you  Jewish  dog !  " 
roared  a  dirty  fellow  out  of  the  mob. 

"  I  am  your  eternal  debtor.  Let  us  step  into  this 
side  room.  Walk  up  stairs,  my  friends.  Take  care, 
there,  sir !  —  That  porcelain,  whole,  is  worth  three 
thousand  gold  pieces  ;  broken,  it  is  not  three  pence.  I 
leave  it  to  your  good  sense  to  treat  it  accordingly.  Now 
then,  my  friend  !  "  And  in  the  midst  of  the  raging 
vortex  of  plunderers,  who  were  snatching  up  every 
thing  which  they  could  carry  away,  and  breaking  every 
thing  which  they  could  not,  he  quietly' divested  himself 
of  his  finely,  and  put  on  the  ragged  cotton  tunic,  and 
battered  straw  hat,  which  the  fellow  handed  over  to 
him. 


144  HYPATIA. 

Philammon,  who  had  had  from  the  first  no  mind  to 
plunder,  stood  watching  Raphael  with  dumb  wonder ; 
and  a  shudder  of  regret,  he  knew  not  why,  passed 
through  him,  as  he  saw  the  mob  tearing  down  pictures, 
and  dashing  statues  to  the  ground.  Heathen  they  were, 
doubtless  ;  but  still  the    Nymphs   and  Venuses  looked 

too  lovely  to  be  so  brutally  destroyed There  was 

something  almost  humanly  pitiful  in  their  poor  broken 
arms  and  legs,  as  they  lay  about  upon  the  pavement. 
....  He  laughed  at  himself  for  the  notion  ;  but  he 
could  not  laugh  it  away. 

Raphael  seemed  to  think  that  he  ought  not  to  laugh 
it  away  ;  for  he  pointed  to  the  fragments,  and  with  a 
quaint  look  at  the  young  monk,  — 

"  Our  nurses  used  to  tell  us, 

If  you  can't  make  it 

You  ought  not  to  break  it." 

"  I  had  no  nurse,"  said  Philammon. 

*'  Ah  !  —  that  accounts  —  for  this  and  other  things. 
Well,"  he  went  on,  with  the  most  provoking  good- 
nature, "  you  are  in  a  fair  road,  my  handsome  youth  ;  I 
wish  you  joy  of  your  fellow-workmen,  and  of  your 
apprenticeship  in  the  noble  art  of  monkery.  Riot  and 
pillage,  shrieking  Women  and  houseless  children  in  your 
twentieth  summer,  are  the  sure  path  to  a  saintship, 
such  as  Paul  of  Tarsus,  who,  with  all  his  eccentrici- 
ties, was  a  gentleman,  certainly  never  contemplated. 
I  have  heard  of  Phoebus  Apollo  under  many  disguises, 
but  this  is  the  first  time  I  ever  saw  him  in  the  wolfs 
hide." 

"  Or  in  the  lion's,"  said  Philammon,  trying  in  his 
shame  to  make  a  fine  speech. 


THE    NEW    DIOGENES.  145 

"  Like  the  Ass  in  the  Fable.  Farewell  !  Stand  out 
of  the  way,  friends  !     'Ware  teeth  and  poison  !  " 

And  he  disappeared  among  the  crowd,  who  made 
way  respectfully  enough  for  his  dagger  and  his  brindled 
companion. 


146 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THOSE    BY    WHOJI    OFFENCES    COME. 

Philammon's  heart  smote  him  all  that  day,  whenever 
he  thought  of  his  morning's  work.  Till  then  all  Chris- 
tians, monks  above  all,  had  been  infallible  in  his  eyes : 
all  Jews  and  heathens  insane  and  accursed.  Moreover, 
meekness  under  insult,  fortitude  in  calamity,  the  con- 
tempt of  worldly  comfort,  the  worship  of  poverty  as  a 
noble  estate,  were  virtues  which  the  Church  Catholic 
boasted  as  her  peculiar  heritage  :  on  which  side  had 
the  balance  of  those  qualities  inclined  that  morning  ? 
The  figure  of  Raphael,  stalking  out  ragged  and  penni- 
less into  the  wide  world,  haunted  him,  with  its  quiet, 
self-assured  smile.  And  there  haunted  him,  too,  another 
peculiarity  in  the  man,  which  he  had  never  before 
remarked  in  any  one  but  Arsenius,  —  that  ease  and 
grace,  that  courtesy  and  self-restrahit,  which  made 
Raphael's  rebukes  rankle  all  the  more  keenly,  because 
he  felt  that  the  rebuker  was  in  some  mysterious  way 
superior  to  him,  and  saw  through  him,  and  could  have 
won  him  over,  or  crushed  him  in  argument,  or  in 
intrigue  —  or  in  any  thing,  perhaps,  except  mere  brute 
force.     Strange — that  Raphael,  of  all  men,  should  in 


THOSE   BY   WHOM    OFFENCES   COME.  147 

those  few  moments  have  reminded  him  so  much  of 
Arsenius ;  and  that  the  very  same  qualities  which  gave 
a  peculiar  charm  to  the  latter  should  give  a  peculiar 
unloveliness  to  the  former,  and  yet  be,  without  a  doubt, 
the  same.  What  was  it  ?  Was  it  rank  which  gave  it  ? 
Arsenius  had  been  a  great  man,  he  knew,  —  the  com- 
panion of  kings.  And  Raphael  seemed  rich.  He  had 
heard  the  mob  crying  out  against  the  prefect  for  favor- 
ing him.  Was  it  then  familiarity  with  the  great  ones  of 
the  world  which  produced  this  manner  and  tone  ?  It 
was  a  real  strength,  whether  in  Arsenius  or  in  Raphael. 
He  felt  humbled  before  it,  —  envied  it.  If  it  made 
Arsenius  a  more  complete  and  more  captivating  person, 
why  should  it  not  do  the  same  for  him  ?  Why  should 
not  he,  too,  have  his  share  of  it  ? 

Bringing  with  it  such  thoughts  as  these,  the  time  ran 
on  till  noon,  and  the  midday  meal,  and  the  afternoon's 
work,  to  which  Philammon  looked  forward  joyfully,  as  a 
refuge  from  his  own  thoughts. 

He  was  sitting  on  his  sheep-skin  upon  a  step,  bask- 
ing, like  a  true  son  of  the  desert,  in  a  blaze  of  fiery 
sunshine,  which  made  the  black  stonework  too  hot  to 
touch  with  the  bare  hand,  watching  the  swallows  as 
they  threaded  the  columns  of  the  Serapeium,  and  think- 
ing how  often  he  had  delighted  in  their  air-dance,  as 
they  turned  and  hawked  up  and  down  the  dear  old  glen 
at  Scetis.  A  crowd  of  citizens,  with  causes,  appeals, 
and  petitions,  were  passing  in  and  out  from  the  patriarch's 
audience-room.  Peter  and  the  archdeacon  were  wait- 
ing in  the  shade  close  by,  for  the  gathering  of  the  para- 
bolani,  and  talking  over  the  morning's  work  in  an 
earnest  whisper,  in  which  the  names  of  Hypatia  and 
Orestes  were  now  and  then  audible. 


148  HYPATIA. 

An  old  priest  came  up,  and  bowing  reverently  enough 
to  the  archdeacon,  requested  the  help  of  one  of  the  pa- 
rabolani.  He  had  a  sailor's  family,  all  fever-stricken, 
who  must  be  removed  to  the  hospital  at  once. 

The  archdeacon  looked  at  him,  answered  an  off- 
hand "  Very  well,"  and  went  on  with  his  talk. 

The  priest,  bowing  lower  than  before,  represented 
the  immediate  necessity  for  help. 

"  It  is  very  odd,"  said  Peter  to  the  swallows  in  the 
Serapeium,  "  that  some  people  cannot  obtain  influence 
enough  in  their  own  parishes  to  get  the  simplest  good 
works  performed  without  tormenting  his  holiness  the 
patriarch." 

Tiie  old  priest  mumbled  some  sort  of  excuse,  and  the 
archdeacon,  without  deigning  a  second  look  at  him, 
said, — "Find  him  a  man,  brother  Peter.  Anybody 
will  do.  What  is  that  boy  —  Philammon  —  doing  there  ? 
Let  him  go  with  Master  Hieracas." 

Peter  seemed  not  to  receive  the  proposition  favorably, 
and  whispered  something  to  the  archdeacon  .... 

"  No.  I  can  spare  none  of  the  rest.  Importunate 
persons  must  take  their  chance  of  being  well  sci"ved. 
Come  —  here  are  our  brethren;  we  will  all  go  to- 
gether." 

"  The  further  together  the  better  for  the  boy's  sake," 
grumbled  Peter,  loud  enough  for  Philammon  —  perhaps 
for  the  old  priest — to  overhear  him. 

So  Philammon  went  out  with  them,  and  as  he  went 
questioned  his  companions,  meekly  enough,  as  to  who 
Raphael  was. 

"  A  friend  of  Hypatia  !  "  —  that  name,  too,  haunted 
him ;  and  he  began,  as  stealthily  and  indirectly  as  he 
could,  to  obtain  information  about  her.     There  was  no 


THOSE    BY    WHOM    OFFENCES    COME.  149 

need  for  his  caution  ;  for  the  very  mention  of  her  name 
roused  the  whole  party  into  a  fury  of  execration. 

"  May  God  confound  her,  siren,  enchantress,  dealer 
in  spells  and  sorceries  !  She  is  the  strange  woman  of 
whom  Solomon  prophesied." 

"  It  is  my  opinion,"  said  another,  "  that  she  is  the 
forerunner  of  Antichrist." 

"  Perhaps  the  virgin  of  whom  it  is  prophesied  that  he 
will  be  born,"  suggested  another. 

"  Not  that,  I  '11  warrant  her,"  said  Peter,  with  a 
savage  sneer. 

"  And  is  Raphael  Aben-Ezra  her  pupil  in  philoso- 
phy .''"  asked  Philammon. 

"  Her  pupil  in  whatsoever  she  can  find  wherewith  to 
delude  men's  souls,"  said  the  old  priest.  "  The  reality 
of  philosophy  has  died  long  ago,  but  the  great  ones  find 
it  still  worth  their  while  to  worship  its  shadow." 

"  Some  of  them  worship  more  than  a  shadow,  when 
they  haunt  her  house,"  said  Peter.  "  Do  you  think 
Orestes  goes  thither  only  for  philosophy  ?  " 

"  We  must  not  judge  harsh  judgments,"  said  the  old 
priest ;  "  Synesius  of  Cyrene  is  a  holy  man,  and  yet  he 
loves  Hypatia  well." 

"  He  a  holy  man  ?  —  and  keeps  a  wife  ?  One  who 
had  the  insolence  to  tell  the  blessed  Theophilus  himself 
tliat  he  would  not  be  made  bishop  unless  he  were 
allowed  to  remain  with  her  ;  and  despised  the  gift  of 
the  Holy  Ghost  in  comparison  of  the  carnal  joys  of 
wedlock,  not  knowing  the  Scriptures,  which  saith  that 
those  who  are  in  the  flesh  cannot  please  God  !  Well 
said  Siricius  of  Rome  of  sucTi  men,  "  Can  the  Holy 
Spirit  of  God  dwell  in  other  than  holy  bodies  ?  "     No 


150  HYPATIA. 

wonder  that  such  a  one  as  Syncsius  grovels  at  the  feet 
of  Orestes'  mistress  !  " 

"  Then  she  is  profligate  ?  "  asked  Philammon. 

"  She  must  be.  Has  a  heathen  faith  and  grace  ?  And 
without  faith  and  grace,  are  not  all  our  righteousness  as 
filthy  rags  ?  What  says  St.  Paul  ?  —  That  God  has 
given  them  over  to  a  reprobate  mind,  full  of  all  injus- 
tice, unclcanness,  covetousness,  maliciousness,  you  know 
the  catalogue,  —  why  do  you  ask  me  ?  " 

"  Alas  !  and  is  she  this  ?  " 

"  Alas  !  —  And  why  alas  ?  How  would  the  Gospel 
be  glorified  if  heathens  were  holier  than  Christians  ?  It 
ought  to  be  so,  therefore  it  is  so.  If  she  seems  to  have 
virtues,  they,  being  done  without  the  grace  of  Christ,  are 
only  bedizened  vices,  cunning  shams,  the  Devil  trans- 
formed into  an  angel  of  light.  And  as  for  chastity,  the 
flower  and  crown  of  all  virtues,  —  whosoever  says  that 
she,  being  yet  a  heathen,  has  that,  blasphemes  the  Holy 
Spirit,  whose  peculiar  and  highest  gift  it  is,  and  is 
anathema  maranatha  for  ever  !  Amen  !  "  And  Peter, 
devoutly  crossing  himself,  turned  angrily  and  contempt- 
uously away  from  his  young  companion. 

Philammon  was  quite  shrewd  enough  to  see  that  asser- 
tion was  not  identical  with  proof.  But  Peter's  argu- 
ment of  "  it  ought  to  be,  therefore  it  is,"  is  one  which 

saves  a  great  deal  of  trouble and  no  doubt  he  had 

very  good  sources  of  information.  So  Philammon 
walked  on,  sad,  he  knew  not  why,  at  the  new  notion 
which  he  had  formed  of  Hypatia,  as  a  sort  of  awful 
sorceress-Messalina,  whose  den  was  foul  with  magic 
rites  and  ruined  souls  of  men.  And  if  that  was  all  she 
had  to  teach,  whence  had  her  pupil  Raphael  learned 


THOSE    BY   WHOM    OFFENCES   COME.  151 

that  fortitude  of  his  ?  If  philosophy  had,  as  they  said, 
utterly  died  out,  then  what  was  Raphael  ? 

Just  then,  Peter  and  the  rest  turned  up  a  side  street, 
and  Philammon  and  Hieracas  were  left  to  go  on  their 
joint  errand  together.  They  paced  on  for  some  way  in 
silence,  up  one  street  and  down  another,  till  Philammon, 
for  want  of  any  thing  better  to  say,  asked  where  they 
were  going  ? 

"  Where  I  choose,  at  all  events.  No,  young  man  ! 
If  I,  a  priest,  am  to  be  insulted  by  archdeacons  and 
readers,  I  won't  be  insulted  by  you." 

"  I  assure  you  I  meant  no  harm." 

"  Of  course  not ;  you  all  learn  the  same  trick,  and 
the  young  ones  catch  it  of  the  old  ones  fast  enough. 
Words  smoother  than  butter,  yet  very  swords." 

"  You  do  not  mean  to  complain  of  the  archdeacon 
and  his  companions  ?  "  said  Philammon,  who  of  course 
was  boiling  over  with  pugnacious  respect  for  the  body 
to  which  he  belonged. 

No  answer, 

"  Why,  sir,  are  they  not  among  the  most  holy  and 
devoted  of  men  ?  " 

"  Ah  —  yes,"  said  his  companion,  in  a  tone  which 
sounded  very  like  "Ah  —  no." 

"  You  do  not  think  so  ?  "  asked  Philammon  bluntly. 

"  You  are  young,  you  are  young.  .  Wait  awhile  till 
you  have  seen  as  much  as  I  have.  A  degenerate 
age  this,  my  son  ;  not  like  the  good  old  times  when 
men  dare  suffer  and  die  for  the  faith.  We  are  too 
prosperous  now-a-days ;  and  fine  ladies  walk  about 
with  Magdalens  embroidered  on  their  silks,  and  gos- 
pels  hanging  round  their  necks.     When  I  was  young 


152  HYPATIA. 

they  died  for  that,  with  which  they  now  bedizen  them- 
selves." 

"  But  I  was  speaking  of  the  parabolani." 

"  Ah,  there  are  a  great  many  among  them  who  have 
not  much  business  where  they  are.  Don't  say  I  said 
so.  But  many  a  rich  man  puts  his  name  on  the 
list  of  the  guild  just  to  get  his  exemption  from  taxes, 
and  leaves  the  work  to  poor  men  like  you.  Rotten, 
rotten  !  my  son,  and  you  will  find  it  out.  The  preach- 
ers, now  —  people  used  to  say  —  I  know  Abbot  Isidore 
did  —  that  I  had  as  good  a  gift  for  expounding  as  any 
man  in  Pelusium  ;  but  since  I  came  here,  eleven  years 
since,  if  you  will  believe  it,  I  have  never  been  asked  to 
preach  in  my  own  parish  church." 

"  You  surely  jest !  " 

"  True,  as  I  am  a  christened  man.  I  know  why,  — 
I  know  why  :  they  are  afraid  of  Isidore's  men  here  .... 
Perhaps  they  may  have  caught  the  holy  man's  trick  of 
plain  speaking,  —  and  ears  are  dainty  in  Alexandria. 
And  there  are  some  in  these  parts,  too,  that  have  never 
forgiven  him  the  part  he  took  about  those  three  villains, 
Maro,  Zosimus,  and  Martinian,  and  a  certain  letter  that 
came  of  it ;  or  another  letter  either,  which  we  know  of, 
about  taking  alms  for  the  Church  from  the  gains  of  rob- 
bers and  usurers.     '  Cyril  never  forgets.'     So  he  says 

to  every  one  who  does  him  a  good  turn And  so 

he  does  to  every  one  who  he  fancies  has  done  him  a 
bad  one.  So  here  am  I  slaving  away,  a  subordinate 
priest,  while  such  fellows  as  Peter  the  reader  look  down 
on  me  as  their  slave.  But  it 's  always  so.  There  never 
was  a  bishop  yet,  except  the  blessed  Augustine, —  would 
to  Heaven  I  had  taken  my  abbot's  advice,  and  gone  to 
him  at  Hippo  !  —  who   had  not   his  flatterers  and  his 


THOSE   BY    WHOBI    OFFENCES    COME.  153 

talebearers,  and  generally  the  archdeacon  at  the  head 
of  them,  ready  to  step  into  the  bishop's  place  when  he 
dies,  over  the  heads  of  hard-working  parish  priests. 
But  that  is  the  way  of  the  world.  The  sleekest  and  the 
oiliest,  and  the  noisiest ;  the  man  who  can  bring  in  most 
money  to  the  charities,  never  mind  whence  or  how  ;  the 
man  who  will  take  most  of  the  bishop's  work  oif  his 
hands,  and  agree  with  him  in  every  thing  he  wants, 
and  save  him,  by  spying  and  eavesdropping,  the  trouble 
of  using  his  own  eyes  ;  that  is  the  man  to  succeed  in 
Alexandria,  or  Constantinople,  or  Rome  itself.  Look 
now  ;  there  are  but  seven  deacons  to  this  great  city, 
and  all  its  priests ;  and  they  and  the  archdeacon  are  the 
masters  of  it  and  us.  They  and  that  Peter  manage 
Cyril's  work  for  him,  and  when  Cyril  makes  the  arch- 
deacon a  bishop,  he  will  make  Peter  archdeacon 

They  have  their  reward,  they  have  their  reward  ;  and 
so  has  Cyril,  for  that  matter." 

"  How  ?  " 

"  Why,  don't  say  I  said  it.  But  what  do  I  care  ? 
I  have  nothing  to  lose,  I  'm  sure,  here.  But  they  do 
say  that  there  are  two  ways  of  promotion  in  Alexan- 
dria :  one  by  deserving  it,  the  other  by  paying  for  it. 
That 's  all." 

"  Impossible  ! " 
-  "  O,  of  course,  quite  impossible.  But  all  I  know  is 
just  this,  that  when  that  fellow  Martinian  got  back  again 
into  Pelusium,  after  being  turned  out  by  the  late  bishop 
for  a  rogue  and  hypocrite  as  he  was,  and  got  the  ear  of 
this  present  bishop,  and  was  appointed  his  steward,  and 
ordained  priest,  —  I  'd  as  soon  have  ordained  that  street- 
dog, —  and  plundered  him,  and  brought  him  to  disgrace, 
—  for  I  don't  believe  this  bishop  is  a  bad  man,  but  those 

VOL.   1.  11 


154  HYPATIA. 

who  use  rogues  must  expect  to  be  called  rogues,  —  and 
ground  the  poor  to  the  earth,  and  tyrannized  over  the 
whole  city,  so  that  no  man's  property,  or  reputation, 
scarcely  their  lives,  were  safe  ;  and  after  all,  had  the 
impudence,  when  he  was  called  on  for  his  accounts,  to 
bring  the  Church  in  as  owing  him  money ;  I  just  know 
this,  that  he  added  to  all  his  other  shamelessness  this, 
that  he  offered  the  patriarch  a  large  sum  of  money  to 

buy  a  bishopric  of  him And  what  do  you  think 

the  patriarch  answered  ?  " 

"  Excommunicated  the  sacrilegious  wretch,  of  course!" 

"  Sent  him  a  letter  to  say  that  if  he  dared  to  do  such 
a  thing  again  he  should  really  be  forced  to  expose  him ! 
So  the  fellow,  taking  courage,  brought  his  money  him- 
self the  next  time  ;  and  all  the  world  says  that  Cyril 
would  have  made  him  a  bishop  after  all,  if  Abbot  Isi- 
dore had  not  written  to  remonstrate." 

"  He  could  not  have  known  the  man's  character," 
said  poor  Philammon,  hunting  for  an  excuse. 

"  The  whole  Delta  was  ringing  with  it.  Isidore  had 
written  to  him  again  and  again." 

"  Surely,  then,  his  wish  was  to  prevent  scandal,  and 
preserve  the  unity  of  the  Church  in  the  eyes  of  the 
heathen." 

The  old  man  laughed  bitterly. 

"Ah,  the  old  story,  —  of  preventing  scandals  by  re- 
taining them,  and  fancying  that  sin  is  a  less  evil  than 
a  little  noise  ;  as  if  the  worst  of  all  scandals  was  not  the 
being  discovered  in  hushing  up  a  scandal.  And  as  for 
unity,  if  you  want  that,  you  must  go  back  to  the  good 
old  times  of  Dioclcsian  and  Decius." 

"  The  persecutors  ?  " 

"  Ay,   boy,  —  to   the    times   of    persecution,    when 


THOSE    BY    WHOM    OFFENCES    COME.  155 

Christians  died  like  brothers,  because  they  lived  like 
brothers.  You  will  see  very  little  of  that  now,  except 
in  some  little  remote  county  bishopric,  which  no  one 
ever  hears  of  from  year's  end  to  year's  end.  But  in 
the  cities  it  is  all  one  great  fight  for  place  and  power. 
Every  one  is  jealous  of  his  neighbor.  The  priests  are 
jealous  of  the  deacons,  and  good  cause  they  have.  The 
county  bishops  are  jealous  of  the  metropolitan,  and  he 
is  jealous  of  the  North  African  bishops,  and  quite  right 
he  is.  What  business  have  they  to  set  up  for  them- 
selves, as  if  they  were  infallible  ?  It 's  a  schism,  I  say, 
—  a  complete  schism.  They  are  just  as  bad  as  their 
own  Donatists.  Did  not  the  Council  of  Nice  settle  that 
the  Metropolitan  of  Alexandria  should  have  authority 
over  Libya  and  Pentapolis,  according  to  the  ancient 
custom  ?  " 

"  Of  course  he  ought,"  said  Philammon,  jealous  for 
the  honor  of  his  own  patriarchate. 

"  And  the  patriarchs  of  Rome  and  Constantiple  are 
jealous  of  our  patriarch." 

"  Of  Cyril  ?  " 

"  Of  course,  because  he  wont  be  at  their  beck  and 
nod,  and  let  them  be  lords  and  masters  of  Africa." 

"  But  surely  these  things  can  be  settled  by  coun- 
cils ?  " 

"  Councils  ?  Wait  till  you  have  been  at  one.  The 
blessed  Abbot  Isidore  used  to  say,  that  if  he  ever  was  a 
bishop,  —  which  he  never  will  be,  —  he  is  far  too  hon- 
est for  that,  —  he  would  never  go  near  one  of  them ; 
for  he  never  had  seen  one  which  did  not  call  out  every 
evil  passion  in  men's  hearts,  and  leave  the  question 
more  confounded  with  words  than  they  found  it,  even 
if  the  whole  matter  was  not  settled  beforehand  by  some 


156  iiypATiA. 

chamberlain,  or  eunuch,  or  cook  sent  from  court,  as  if 
he  were  an  anointed  vessel  of  the  Spirit,  to  settle  the 
dogmas  of  the  Holy  Catholic  Church." 

"  Cook  ? " 

"  Why,  Valens  sent  his  chief  cook  to  stop   Basil  of 

CoBsarea  from  opposing  the  court  doctrine I  tell 

you,  the  great  battle  in  these  cases  is  to  get  votes  from 
courts,  or  to  get  to  court  yourself.  When  I  was  young, 
the  Council  of  Antioch  had  to  make  a  law  to  keep 
bishops  from  running  off  to  Constantinople  to  intrigue, 
under  pretence  of  pleading  the  cause  of  the  orphan  and 
widow.  But  what 's  the  use  of  that,  when  every  noisy 
and  ambitious  man  shifts  and  shifts,  from  one  see  to 
another,  till  he  settles  himself  close  to  Rome  or  Byzan- 
tium, and  gets  the  Emperor's  ear,  and  plays  into  the 
hands  of  his  courtiers  ? " 

"  Is  it  not  written,  '  Speak  not  evil  of  dignities '  ?  " 
said  Philammon,  in  his  most  sanctimonious  tone. 

"  Well,  what  of  that  ?  I  don't  speak  evil  of  digni- 
ties, when  I  complain  of  the  men  who  fill  them  badly, 
do  I }  " 

"  I  never  heard  that  interpretation  of  the  text  before." 

"  Very  likely  not.  That 's  no  reason  why  it  should 
not  be  true  and  orthodox.  You  will  soon  hear  a  good 
many  moi'e  things,  which  are  true  enough,  —  though 
whether  they  are  orthodox  or  not,  the  court  cooks  must 
settle.  Of  course,  I  am  a  disappointed,  irreverent  old 
grumbler.  Of  course  ;  and  of  course,  too,  young  men 
must  needs  buy  their  own  experience,  instead  of  taking 
old  folks'  at  a  gift.  There, —  use  your  own  eyes,  and 
judge  for  yourself.  There  you  may  see  what  sort  of 
saints  are  bred  by  this  plan  of  managing  the  Catholic 


THOSE  BY  WHOM  OFFENCES  COME.       157 

* 

Church.     There  comes  one  of  them.     Now  !    I  say  no 
more  ! " 

As  he  spoke,  two  tall  negroes  came  up  to  them,  and 
set  down  before  the  steps  of  a  large  church  which  they 
were  passing,  an  object  new  to  Philammon,  —  a  sedan- 
chair,  the  poles  of  which  wei'e  inlaid  with  ivory  and 
silver,  and  the  upper  part  inclosed  in  rose-colored  silk 
curtains. 

"  What  is  inside  that  cage  ? "  asked  he  of  the  old 
priest,  as  the  negroes  stood  wiping  the  perspiration  from 
their  foreheads,  and  a  smart  slave-girl  stepped  forward, 
with  a  parasol  and  slippers  in  her  hand,  and  reverently 
lifted  the  lower  edge  of  the  curtain. 

"  A  saint,  I  tell  you  !  " 

An  embroidered  shoe,  with  a  large  gold  cross  on  the 
instep,  was  put  forth  delicately  from  beneath  the  cur- 
tain, and  the  kneeling  maid  put  on  the  slipper  over  it. 

"  There  !  "  whispered  the  old  grumbler.  "  Not 
^enough,  you  see,  to  use  Christian  men  as  beasts  of  bur- 
den. Abbot  Isidore  used  to  say,  —  ay,  and  told  Iron, 
the  pleader,  to  his  face,  —  that  he  could  not  conceive 
how  a  man  who  loved  Christ,  and  knew  the  grace  which 
has  made  all  men  free,  could  keep  a  slave." 

"  Nor  can  I,"  said  Philammon. 

"But  we  think  otherwise,  you  see,  in  Alexandria 
here.  We  can't  even  walk  up  the  steps  of  God's 
temple  without  an  additional  protection  to  our  delicate 
feet." 

"  I  had  thought  it  was  written,  '  Put  off  thy  shoes 
from  off  thy  feet,  for  the  place  where  thou  standest  is 
holy  ground.'  " 

"  Ah  !  there  are  a  good  many  more  things  written 
which  we  do  not  find  it  convenient  to  recollect. 


158  HYPATIA. 

% 

Look  !     There  is  one  of  the  pillars  of  the  Church,  — 
the  richest  and  most  pious  lady  in  Alexandria." 

And  forth  stepped  a  figure,  at  which  Philammon's 
eyes  opened  wider  than  they  had  done  even  at  the  sight 
of  Pelagia.  Whatever  thoughts  the  rich  and  careless 
grace  of  her  attire  might  have  raised  in  his  mind,  it  had 
certainly  not  given  his  innate  Greek  good  taste  the  in- 
clination to  laugh  and  weep  at  once,  which  he  felt  at 
this  specimen  of  the  tasteless  fashion  of  an  artificial  and 
decaying  civilization.  Her  gown  was  stuffed  out  behind 
in  a  fashion  which  provoked  from  the  dirty  boys  who 
lay  about  the  steps,  gambling  for  pistachios  on  their  fin- 
gers, the  same  comments  with  which  St.  Clement  had 
upbraided  from  the  pulpit  the  Alexandrian  ladies  of 
his  day.  The  said  gown  of  white  silk  was  bedizened, 
from  waist  to  ankle,  with  certain  mysterious  red  and 
green  figures,  at  least  a  foot  long,  which  Philammon 
gradually  discovered  to  be  a  representation,  in  the  very 
lowest  and  ugliest  style  of  fallen  art,  of  Dives  and  Laza- 
rus ;  while  down  her  back  hung,  upon  a  bright  blue 
shawl,  edged  with  embroidered  crosses.  Job  sitting,  pot- 
sherd in  hand,  surrounded  by  his  thi'ee  friends,  —  a  me- 
morial, the  old  priest  whispered,  of  a  pilgrimage  which 
she  had  taken  a  year  or  two  before,  to  Arabia,  to  see 
and  kiss  the  identical  dunghill  on  which  the  patriarch 
had  sat. 

Round  her  neck  hung,  by  one  of  half-a-dozen  neck- 
laces, a  manuscript  of  the  Gospels,  gilt-edged  and 
clasped  with  jewels ;  the  lofty  diadem  of  pearls  on  her 
head  carried  in  front  a  large  gold  cross  ;  while  above 
and  around  it  her  hair,  stiffened  with  pomatum,  was 
frizzled  out  half  a  foot  from  a  wilderness  of  plaits  and 
curls,  which  must  have  cost  some  hapless  slave-girl  an 


THOSE    BY  WH03I    OFFENCES    COME.  159 

hour's  work,  and  perhaps  more  than  one  scolding,  that 
very  morning. 

Meekly,  with  simpering  face  and  downcast  eyes,  and 
now  and  then  a  penitent  sigh  and  shake  of  the  head 
and  pressure  of  her  hand  on  her  jewelled  bosom,  the 
fair  penitent  was  proceeding  up  the  steps,  when  she 
caught  sight  of  the  priest  and  the  monk,  and  turning  to 
them,  with  an  obeisance  of  the  deepest  humility,  en- 
treated to  be  allowed  to  kiss  the  hem  of  their  garments. 

"  You  had  far  better,  madam,"  said  Philammon, 
bluntly  enough,  "  kiss  the  hem  of  your  own.  You 
carry  two  lessons  there  which  you  do  not  seem  to  have 
learnt  yet." 

In  an  instant  her  face  flashed  up  into  pride  and  fury. 
"  I  asked  for  your  blessing,  and  not  for  a  sermon.  I 
can  have  that  when  I  like." 

"  And  such  as  you  like,"  grumbled  the  old  priest,  as 
she  swept  up  the  steps,  tossing  some  small  coin  to  the 
ragged  boys,  and  murmuring  to  herself,  loud  enough  for 
Philammon's  hearing,  that  she  should  "  certainly  inform 
the  confessor,  and  that  she  would  not  be  insulted  in  the 
streets  by  savage  monks." 

"  Now  she  will  confess  her  sins  inside,  —  all  but  those 
which  she  has  been  showing  off  to  us  here  outside,  and 
beat  her  breast,  and  weep  like  a  very  Magdalen  ;  and 
then  the  worthy  man  will  comfort  her  with  — '  What  a 
beautiful  chain  !  And  what  a  shawl  !  —  allow  me  to 
touch  it !  How  soft  and  delicate  this  Indian  wool !  — 
Ah  !  if  you  knew  the  debts  which  I  have  been  compelled 

to  incur  in  the  service  of  the  sanctuary! '     And 

then  of  course  the  answer  will  be,  as,  indeed,  he  ex- 
pects it  should,  that  if  it  can  be  of  the  least  use  in  the 
service  of  the  Temple,  she,  of  course,  will  think  it  only 


160  HYPATIA. 

too  great  an  honor And  he  will  keep  the  chain, 

and  perhaps  the  shawl,  too.  And  she  will  go  home, 
believing  that  she  has  fulfilled  to  the  very  letter  the 
command  to  break  off  her  sins  by  almsgiving,  and  only 
sorry  that  the  good  priest  happened  to  hit  on  that  par- 
ticular gewgaw  !  " 

"  What,"  asked  Philammon  ;  "  dare  she  actually  not 
refuse  such  importunity  ?  " 

"  From  a  poor  priest  like  me,  stoutly  enough  ;  but 

from  a  popular  ecclesiastic  like  him As  Jerome 

says,  in  a  letter  of  his  I  once  saw,  ladies  think  twice  in 
such  cases  before  they  offend  the  city  newsmonger. 
Have  you  any  thing  more  to  say  ?  " 

Philammon  had  nothing  to  say  ;  and  wisely  held  his 
peace,  while  the  old  grumbler  ran  on,  — 

"  Ah,  boy,  you  have  yet  to  learn  city  fashions ! 
When  you  are  a  little  older,  instead  of  speaking  un- 
pleasant truths  to  a  fine  lady  with  a  cross  on  her  fore- 
head, you  will  be  ready  to  run  to  the  pillars  of  Hercules 
at  her  beck  and  nod,  for  the  sake  of  her  disinterested 
help  toward  a  fashionable  pulpit,  or  perhaps  a  bishopric. 
The  ladies  settle  that  for  us  here." 

"  The  women  ?  " 

"  The  women,  lad.  Do  you  suppose  that  they  heap 
priests  and  churches  with  wealth  for  nothing  ?  They 
have  their  reward.  Do  you  suppose  that  a  preacher  gets 
into  the  pulpit  of  that  church  there,  without  looking  anx- 
iously, at  the  end  of  each  peculiarly  flowery  sentence,  to 
see  whether  her  saintship  there  is  clapping  or  not  ?  She, 
who  has  such  a  delicate  sense  for  orthodoxy,  that  she 
can  scent  out  Novatianism  or  Origenism  where  no  other 
mortal  nose  would  suspect  it.  She  who  meets  at  her 
own  house  weekly  all  the  richest  and  most  pious  women 


THOSE    BY    WH03I    OFFENCES    COME.  161 

of  the  city,  to  settle  our  discipline  for  us,  as  the  court 
cooks  do  our  doctrine.  She  who  has  even,  it  is  whis- 
pered, the  ear  of  the  Augusta  Pulcheria  herself,  and 
sends  monthly  letters  to  her  at  Constantinople,  and 
might  give  the  patriarch  himself  some  trouble,  if  he 
crossed  her  holy  will  ?  " 

"  What !  will  Cyril  truckle  to  such  creatures  ?  " 
"  Cyril  is  a  wise  man  in  his  generation,  —  too  wise, 
some  say,  for  a  child  of  the  light.  But  at  least,  he 
knows  there  is  no  use  fighting  with  those  whom  you 
cannot  conquer ;  and  while  he  can  get  money  out  of 
these  great  ladies  for  his  almshouses,  and  orphan-houses, 
and  lodging-houses,  and  hospitals,  and  workshops,  and 
all  the  rest  of  it,  —  and  in  that,  I  will  say  for  him,  there 
is  no  man  on  earth  equal  to  him,  but  Ambrose  of 
Milan  and  Basil  of  Csesarea,  —  W'hy,  I  don't  quarrel 
with  him  for  making  the  best  of  a  bad  matter  ;  and  a 
very  bad  matter  it  is,  boy,  and  has  been  ever  since 
emperors  and  courtiers  have  given  up  burning  and  cru- 
cifying us,  and  taken  to  patronizing  and  bribing  us 
instead." 

Philammon  walked  on  in  silence  by  the  old  priest's 
side,  stunned  and  sickened  .  .  .  .  "  And  this  is  what 
I  have  come  out  to  see,  —  reeds  shaken  in  the  wind,  and 
men  clothed  in  soft  raiment,  fit  only  for  kings'  palaces  !  " 
For  this  he  had  left  the  dear  old  Laura,  and  the  simple  . 
joys  and  friendships  of  childhood,  and  cast  himself  into 
a  roaring  whirlpool  of  labor  and  temptation  !  This 
was  the  harmonious  strength  and  unity  of  that  Church 
Catholic,  in  which,  as  he  had  been  taught  from  boyhood, 
there  was  but  one  Lord,  one  Faith,  one  Spirit.  This  was 
the  indivisible  body,  "  without  spot  or  wrinkle,  which, 
fitly  joined  together  and  compacted  by  that  which  every 


102  HYPATIA. 

member  supplied,  according  to  the  effectual  and  pro- 
portionate working  of  every  part,  increased  the  body, 
and  enabled  it  to  build  itself  up  in  Love  !  "  He  shud- 
dered as  the  well-known  words  passed  through  his  mem- 
ory, and  seemed  to  mock  the  base  and  chaotic  reality 
around  him.  He  felt  ancrv  with  the  old  man  for  having 
broken  his  dream  ;  he  longed  to  believe  that  his  com- 
plaints were  only  exaggerations  of  cynic  peevishness,  of 
selfish  disappointment :  and  yet,  had  not  Arsenius 
warned  him  ?  Had  he  not  foretold,  word  for  word,  what 
the  youth  would  find,  —  what  he  had  found  ?  Then  was 
Saint  Paul's  great  idea  an  empty  and  an  impossible 
dream  ?  No  !  God's  word  could  not  fail ;  the  Church 
could  not  err.  The  fault  could  not  be  in  her,  but  in  her 
enemies  ;  not,  as  the  old  man  said,  in  her  too  great  prosper- 
ity, but  in  her  slavery.  And  then  the  words  which  he  had 
heard  from  Cyril  at  their  first  interview  rose  before  him 
as  the  true  explanation.  How  could  the  Church  work 
freely  and  healthily  while  she  was  crushed  and  fettered 
by  the  rulers  of  this  world  >  And  how  could  they  be 
any  thing  but  the  tyrants  and  antichrists  they  were, 
while  they  were  menaced  and  deluded  by  heathen  phi- 
losophy, and  vain  systems  of  human  wisdom  ?  If 
Orestes  was  the  curse  of  the  Alexandrian  Church,  then 
Hypatia  was  the  curse  of  Orestes.  On  her  head  the 
true  blame  lay.  She  was  the  root  of  the  evil.  Who 
would  extirpate  it  ?  .  .  .  . 

Why  should  not  he  ?  It  might  be  dangerous  :  yet, 
successful  or  unsuccessful,  it  must  be  glorious.  The 
cause  of  Christianity  wanted  great  examples.  Might  he 
not  —  and  his  young  heart  beat  high  at  the  thought, — 
might  he  not,  by  some  great  act  of  daring,  self-sacrifice, 
divine  madness  of  faith   like  David's  of  old,  when  he 


THOSE    BY    WHOM    OFFENCES    COME.  163 

went  out  against  the  giant,  awaken  selfish  and  luxu- 
rious souls  to  a  noble  emulation,  and  recall  to  their 
minds,  perhaps  to  their  lives,  the  patterns  of  those  mar- 
tyrs who  were  the  pride,  the  glory,  the  heirloom  of 
Egypt  ?  And  as  figure  after  figure  rose  before  his 
imagination,  of  simple  men  and  weak  women  who  had 
conquered  temptation  and  shame,  torture  and  death, 
to  live  for  ever  on  the  lips  of  men,  and  take  their  seats 
among  the  patricians  of  the  heavenly  court,  with  brows 
glittering  through  all  eternities  with  the  martyr's  crown, 
his  heart  beat  thick  and  fast,  and  he  longed  only  for  an 
opportunity  to  dare  and  die. 

And  the  longing  begot  the  opportunity.  For  he  had 
hardly  rejoined  his  brother  visitors  when  the  absorbing 
thought  took  word  again,  and  he  began  questioning 
them  eagerly  for  more  information  about  Hypatia, 

On  that  point,  indeed,  he  obtained  nothing  but  fresh 
invective  ;  but  when  his  companions,  after  talking  of 
the  triumph  which  the  true  faith  had  gained  that  morn- 
ing, went  on  to  speak  of  the  great  overthrow  of  Pagan- 
ism twenty  years  before,  under  the  patriarch  Theophilus  ; 
of  Olympiodorus  and  his  mob,  who  held  the  Serapeium 
for  many  days  by  force  of  arms  against  the  Christians, 
making  sallies  into  the  city,  and  torturing  and  murder- 
ing the  prisoners  whom  they  took  ;  of  the  martyrs  who, 
among  those  very  pillars  which  overhung  their  heads, 
had  died  in  torments  rather  than  sacrifice  to  Serapis ; 
and  of  the  final  victory,  and  the  soldier  who,  in  presence 
of  the  trembling  mob,  clove  the  great  jaw  of  the  colossal 
idol,  and  snapped  for  ever  the  spell  of  heathenism,  —  Phi- 
lammon's  heart  burned  to  distinguish  himself  like  that  sol- 
dier, and  to  wipe  out  his  qualms  of  conscience  by  some 
more  unquestionable  deed  of  Christian  prowess.     There 


164 


HYPATIA. 


were  no  idols  now  to  break  :  but  there  was  philosophy, 
— "  Why  not  carry  war  into  the  heart  of  the  enemy's 
camp,  and  beard  Satan  in  his  very  den  ?  Why  does  not 
some  man  of  God  go  boldly,  into  the  lecture-room  of  the 
sorceress,  and  testify  against  her  to  her  face  ?  " 

"  Do  it  yourself,  if  you  dare,"  said  Peter.  "  We 
have  no  wish  to  get  our  brains  knocked  out  by  all  the 
profligate  young  gentlemen  in  the  city." 

"  I  will  do  it,"  said  Philammon. 

"  That  is  if  his  holiness  allows  you  to  make  such  a 
fool  of  yourself." 

"  Take  care,  sir,  of  your  words.  You  revile  the 
blessed  martyrs,  from  St.  Stephen  to  St.  Telemachus, 
when  you  call  such  a  deed  foolishness." 

"  I  shall  most  certainly  inform  his  holiness  of  your 
insolence." 

"  Do  so,"  said  Philammon,  who,  possessed  with  a 
new  idea,  wished  for  nothing  more.  And  there  the 
matter  dropped  for  the  time. 

*  *  #  *  * 

"  The  presumption  of  the  young  in  this  generation 
is  growins;  insufferable,"  said  Peter  to  his  master  that 


evenmg. 


"  So  much  the  better.  They  put  their  elders  on  their 
mettle  in  the  race  of  good  works.  But  who  has  been 
presuming  to-day  ?  " 

"  That  mad  boy  whom  Pambo  sent  up  from  the 
deserts,  dared  to  offer  himself  as  champion  of  the  faith 
against  Hypatia.  He  actually  proposed  to  go  into -her 
lecture-room  and  argue  with  her  to  her  face.  What 
think  you  of  that  for  a  specimen  of  youthful  modesty, 
and  self-distrust  ?  " 

Cyril  was  silent  awhile. 


THOSE  BY  WHOM  OFFENCES  COME.       165 

*'  What  answer  am  I  to  have  the  honor  of  taking  back  ? 
A  month's  relegation  to  Nitria  on  bread  and  water  ? 
You,  I  am  sure,  will  not  allow  such -things  to  go  unpun- 
ished ;  indeed,  if  they  do,  there  is  an  end  to  all  author- 
ity and  discipline." 

Cyril  was  still  silent ;  whilst  Peter's  brow  clouded  fast. 
At  last  he  answered,  — 

"  The  cause  wants  martyrs.     Send  the  boy  to  me." 

Peter  went  down,  with  a  shrug  and  an  expression  of 
face  which  looked  but  too  like  envy,  and  ushered  up 
the  trembling  youth,  who  dropped  oij  his  knees  as  soon 
as  he  entered. 

"  So  you  wish  to  go  into  the  heathen  woman's  lecture- 
room  and  defy  her .''     Have  you  courage  for  it .?  " 

"  God  will  give  it  me." 

"  You  will  be  murdered  by  her  pupils." 

"  I  can  defend  myself,"  said  Philammon,  with  a  par- 
donable glance  downward  at  his  sinewy  limbs.  "  And 
if  not,  what  death  more  glorious  than  martyrdom  ?  " 

,  Cyril   smiled  genially  enough.     "  Promise    me  tsvo 
things." 

"  Two  thousand,  if  you  will." 

"  Two  are  quite  difficult  enough  to  keep.  Youth  is 
rash  in  promises,  and  rasher  in  forgetting  them.  Prom- 
ise me  that,  whatever  happens,  you  will  not  strike  the 
first  blow." 

"  I  do." 

"  Promise  me,  again,  that  you  will  not  argue  with 
her." 

"  What  then  .?  " 

"  Contradict,  denounce,  defy.  But  give  no  reasons. 
If  you  do,  you  are  lost.  She  is  subtler  than  the  serpent, 
skilled  in  all  the  tricks  of  logic,  and  you  will  become  a 


1G6 


HYPATIA. 


laughing-stock,    and    run    away  in    shame.     Promise 
me." 

"  I  do." 

"Then  so." 

"  When  ?  " 

"  The  sooner  the  better.  At  what  hour  docs  the 
accursed  woman  lecture  to-morrow,  Peter  ?  " 

"  We  saw  her  going  into  the  Museum  at  nine  this 
morninfi;." 

"  Then  go  at  nine  to-morrow.  There  is  money  for 
you." 

"  What  is  this  for  ?  "  asked  Philammon,  fingering 
curiously  the  first  coins  which  he  ever  had  handled  in 
his  life. 

"  To  pay  for  your  entrance.  To  the  philosopher  none 
enters  without  money.  Not  so  to  the  Church  of  God, 
open  all  day  long  to  the  beggar  and  the  slave.  If  you 
convert  her,  well.  And  if  not."  ....  And  he  added 
to  himself  between  his  teeth,  "  And  if  not,  well  also,  — 
perhaps  better." 

"  Ay  !  "  said  Peter,  bitterly,  as  he  ushered  Philam- 
mon out.  "  Go  up  to  Ranioth  Gilead,  and  prosper, 
young  fool !  What  evil  spirit  sent  you  here  to  feed  the 
noble  patriarch's  only  weakness  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Philammon,  as  fierce- 
ly as  he  dare. 

"  The  fancy  that  preachings,  and  protestations,  and 
martyrdoms,  can  drive  out  the  Canaanites,  who  can 
only  be  got  rid  of  with  the  sword  of  the  Lord  and  of 
Gideon.  His  uncle  Theophilus  knew  that  well  enough. 
If  he  had  not,  Olympiodorns  might  have  been  master  of 
Alexandria,  and  incense  burning  before  Serapis  to  this 
day.     Ay,  go,  and  let  her  convert  you  !     Touch  the 


THOSE    BY    WHOM    OFFENCES    COME.  167 

accursed  thing,  like  Achan,  and  see  if  you  do  not  end 
by  having  it  in  yorar  tent.  Keep  company  with  the 
daughters  of  Midian,  and  see  if  you  do  not  join  your- 
self to  Baalpeor,  and  eat  the  offerings  of  the  dead  !  " 

And  with  this  encouraging  sentence,  the  two  parted 
for  the  night. 


168 


CHAPTER    VIII. 


THE    EAST  WIND. 


As  Hypatia  went  forth  the  next  morning,  in  all  her 
glory,  with  a  crowd  of  philosophers  and  philosophasters, 
students,  and  fine  gentlemen,  following  her  in  reverent 
admiration  across  the  street  to  her  lecture-room,  a  rag- 
ged beggar-man,  accompanied  by  a  huge  and  villanous- 
looking  dog,  planted  himself  right  before  her,  and, 
extending  a  dirty  hand,  whined  for  an  alms. 

Hypatia,  whose  refined  taste  could  never  endure  the 
sight,  much  less  the  contact,  of  any  thing  squalid  and 
degraded,  recoiled  a  little,  and  bade  the  attendant  slave 
get  rid  of  the  man  with  a  coin.  Several  of  the  younger 
gentlemen,  however,  considered  themselves  adepts  in 
that  noble  art  of  "  upsetting "  then  in  vogue  in  the 
African  universities,  to  which  we  all  have  reason  enough 
to  be  thankful,  seeing  that  it  drove  Saint  Augustine  from 
Carthage  to  Rome  ;  and  they,  in  compliance  with  the 
usual  fashion  of  tormenting  any  simple  creature  who 
came  in  their  way  by  mystification  and  insult,  com- 
menced a  series  of  personal  Avitticisms,  which  the 
beggar  bore  stoically  enough.  The  coin  was  offered 
him,  but  he  blandly  put  aside  the  hand  of  the  giver,  and, 


THE    EAST    WIND.  169 

keeping  his  place  on  the  pavement,  seemed  inclined  to 
dispute  Hypatia's  further  passage. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  Send  the  wretch  and  his 
frightful  dog  away,  gentlemen  !  "  said  the  poor  philos- 
opher, in  some  trepidation. 

"  I  know  that  dog,"  said  one  of  them  ;  "  it  is  Aben- 
Ezra's.  Where  did  you  find  it  before  it  was  lost,  you 
rascal  ?  " 

"  Where  your  mother  found  you  when  she  palmed 
you  off  on  her  goodman,  my  child,  —  in  the  slave-mar- 
ket. Fair  sibyl,  have  you  already  forgotten  your  hum- 
blest pupil,  as  these  young  dogs  have,  who  are  already 
trying  to  upset  their  master  and  instructor  in  the  angelic 
science  of  bullying  ?  " 

And  the  beggar,  lifting  his  broad  straw  hat,  disclosed 
the  features  of  Raphael  Aben-Ezra.  Hypatia  recoiled 
with  a  shriek  of  surprise. 

"  Ah  !  you  are  astonished.     At  what,  I  pray  ?" 
"  To  see  you,  sir,  thus  !" 

"  Why,  then  ?  You  have  been  preaching  to  us  all  a 
long  time  the  glory  of  abstraction  from  the  allurements 
of  sense.  It  augurs  ill,  surely,  for  your  estimate  either 
of  your  pupils  or  of  your  own  eloquence,  if  you  are 
so  struck  with  consternation  because  one  of  them  has 
actually  at  last  obeyed  you." 

"  What  is  the  meaning  of  this  masquerade,  most 
excellent  sir  ? "  asked  Hypatia,  and  a  dozen  voices 
beside. 

"  Ask  Cyril.  I  am  on  my  way  to  Italy,  in  the  charac- 
ter of  the  New  Diogenes,  to  look,  like  him,  for  a  man. 
When  I  have  found  one,  I  shall  feel  great  pleasure 
in  returning  to  acquaint  you  with  the  amazing  news. 
Farewell !  I  wished  to  look  once  more  at  a  certain 
VOL.  I.  12 


170  HYPATIA. 

countenance,  though  I  have  turned,  as  you  see.  Cynic  ; 
and  intend  henceforth  to  attend  no  teacher  but  my  dog, 
who  will  luckily  charge  no  fees  for  instruction  ;  if  she 
did,  I  must  go  untaught,  for  my  ancestral  wealth  made 
itself  wings  yesterday  morning.  You  are  aware,  doubt- 
less, of  the  Plebiscitum  against  the  Jews,  which  was 
carried  into  effect  under  the  auspices  of  a  certain  holy 
tribune  of  the  people  ?  " 

"  Infamous !  " 

"  And  dangerous,  my  dear  lady.  Success  is  inspirit- 
ing ....  and  Theon's  house  is  quite  as  easily  sacked 
as  the  Jews'  quarter Beware." 

"  Come,  come,  Aben-Ezra,"  cried  the  young  men  ; 
"  you  are  far  too  good  company  for  us  to  lose  you  for 
that  rascally  patriarch's  fancy.  We  will  make  "a  sub- 
scription for  you,  eh  }  And  you  shall  live  with  each  of 
us,  month  and  month  about.  We  shall  quite  lose  the 
trick  of  joking  without  you." 

"  Thank  you  gentlemen.  But  really  you  have  been 
my  butts  far  too  long  for  me  to  think  of  becoming  yours. 
Madam,  one  word  in  private  before  I  go." 

Hypatia  leant  forward,  and,  speaking  in  Syriac,  whis- 
pered hurriedly, — 

"  O,  stay,  sir,  I  beseech  you  !      You  are  the  wisest 

of  my  pupils, —  perhaps  my  only  true  pupil My 

father  will  find  some  concealment  for  you  from  these 
wretches  ;  and  if  you  need  money,  remember,  he  is 
your  debtor.  We  have  never  repaid  you  the  gold 
which " 

"  Fairest  Muse,  that  was  but  my  entrance-fee  to 
Parnassus.  It  is  I  who  am  in  your  debt ;  and  I  have 
brought  my  arrears,  in  the  form  of  this  opal  ring.  As 
for  shelter  near  you,"  he  went  on,  lowering  his  voice, 


THE    EAST    WIND.  171 

and  speaking,  like  her,  in  Syriac,  "  Hypalia  the  Gen- 
tile is  far  too  lovely  for  the  peace  of  mind  of  Raphael 
the  Jew."  And  he  drew  from  his  finger  Miriam's  ring, 
and  offered  it. 

"  Impossible  !  "  said  Hypatia,  blushing  scarlet :  "  I 
cannot  accept  it." 

"  I  beseech  you.  It  is  the  last  earthly  burden  I  have, 
except  this  snail's  prison  of  flesh  and  blood.  My  dag- 
ger will  open  a  crack  through  that  when  it  becomes  in- 
tolerable. But  as  I  do  not  intend  to  leave  my  shell,  if  I 
can  help  it,  except  just  when  and  how  I  choose  ;  and  as 
if  I  take  this  ring  with  me,  some  of  Heraclian's  Cir- 
cumcellions'will  assuredly  knock  my  brains  out  for  the 
sake  of  it,  —  I  must  entreat." 

"  Never  !  Can  you  not  sell  the  ring,  and  escape  to 
Synesius  ?     He  will  give  you  shelter." 

"  The  hospitable  hurricane  !  Shelter,  yes  ;  but  rest, 
none.  As  soon  pitch  my  tent  in  the  crater  of  iEtna. 
Why,  he  will  be  trying  day  and  night  to  convert  me  to 
that  eclectic  farrago  of  his,  which  he  calls  philosophic 
Christianity.  Well,  if  you  will  not  have  the  ring,  it  is 
soon  disposed  of.  We  Easterns  know  how  to  be  mag-  ■ 
nificent,  and  vanish  as  the  lords  of  the  world  ousht." 

And  he  turned  to  the  philosophic  crowd. 

"  Here,  gentlemen  of  Alexandria  !  Does  any  gay 
youth  wish  to  pay  his  debts  once  and  for  all  ?  —  Behold 
the  Rainbow  of  Solomon,  an  opal  such  as  Alexandria 
never  saw  before,  which  would  buy  any  one  of  you, 
and  his  Macedonian  papa,  and  Macedonian  mamma,  and 
his  Macedonian  sisters,  and  horses,  and  parrots,  and 
peacocks,  twice  over,  in  any  slave-market  in  the  world. 
Any  gentleman  who  wishes  to  possess  a  jewel  worth  ten 
thousand   gold   pieces,  will   only  need   to  pick  it  out  of 


172  HYPATIA. 

the  gutter  into  which  I  throw  it.  Scramble  for  it,  you 
young  Phscdrias  and  Pamphili  !  There  are  Laides  and 
Thaides  enough  about,  who  will  help  you  to  spend  it." 

And  raising  the  jewel  on  high,  he  was  in  the  act  of 
tossing  it  into  the  street,  when  his  arm  was  seized  from 
behind  and  the  ring  snatched  from  his  hand.  He  turned, 
fiercely  enough,  and  saw  behind  him,  her  eyes  flashing 
fury  and  contempt,  old  Miriam. 

Bran  sprung  at  the  old  woman's  throat  in  an  instant : 
but  recoiled  again  before  the  glare  of  her  eye.  Raphael 
called  the  dog  off,  and  turning  quietly  to  the  disappointed 
spectators,  — 

"  It  is  all  right,  my  luckless  friends.  You  must  raise 
money  for  yourselves,  after  all  ;  which,  since  the  de- 
parture of  my  nation,  will  be  a  somewhat  more  difficult 
matter  than  ever.  The  overruling  destinies,  whom,  as 
you  all  know  so  well  when  you  arc  getting  tipsy,  net 
even  philosophers  can  resist,  have  restored  the  Rainbow 
of  Solomon  to  its  original  possessor.  Farewell,  Queen 
of  Pliilosophy  !  When  1  find  the  man,  you  shall  hear 
of  it.  Mother,  I  am  coming  with  you  for  a  friendly 
word  before  we  part,  though,"  he  went  on  laughing,  as 
the  two  walked  away  together,  "  it  was  a  scurvy  trick 
of  you  to  balk  one  of  The  Nation  of  the  exquisite  pleas- 
ure of  seeing  those  heathen  dogs  scrambling  in  the  gut- 
ter for  his  bounty." 

Hypatia  went  on  to  the  Museum,  utterly  bewildered 
by  this  strange  meeting,  and  its  still  stranger  end.  She 
took  care,  nevertheless,  to  betray  no  sign  of  her  deep 
interest  till  she  found  herself  alone  in  her  little  waiting- 
room  adjoining  the  lecture-hall  ;  and  there,  throwing 
herself  into  a  chair,  she  sat  and  thought,  till  she  found, 
to  her  surprise  and  anger,  the  tears  trickling  down  her 


THE    EAST    WIND.  173 

cheeks.  Not  that  her  bosom  held  one  spark  of  afFection 
for  Raphael.  If  there  had  ever  been  any  danger  of 
that,  the  wily  Jew  had  himself  taken  care  to  ward  it  off, 
by  the  sneering  and  frivolous  tone  with  which  he  quashed 
every  approach  to  deep  feeling,  either  in  himself  or  in 
others.  As  for  his  compliments  to  her  beauty,  she  was 
far  too  much  accustomed  to  such  to  be  either  pleased  or 
displeased  by  them.  But  she  felt,  as  she  said,  that  she 
had  lost  perhaps  her  only  true  pupil  ;  and  more,  — 
perhaps  her  only  true  master.  For  she  saw  clearly 
enough,  that  under  that  Silenus'  mask  was  hidden  a  na- 
ture capable  of —  perhaps  more  than  she  dare  think  of. 
She  had  always  felt  him  her  superior  in  practical  cun- 
ning ;  and  that  morning  had  proved  to  her  what  she  had 
long  suspected,  that  he  was  possibly  also  her  superior  in 
that  moral  earnestness  and  strength  of  will  for  which 
she  looked  in  vain  among  the  enervated  Greeks  who 
surrounded  her.  And  even  in  those  matters  in  which 
he  professed  himself  her  pupil,  she  had  long  been  alter- 
nately delighted  by  finding  that  he  alone,  of  all  her 
school,  seemed  thoroughly  and  instinctively  to  compre- 
hend her  every  word,  and  chilled  by  the  disagreeable  sus- 
picion that  he  was  only  playing  with  her,  and  her  math- 
ematics and  geometry,  and  metaphysic  and  dialectic,  like 
a  fencer  practising  with  foils,  while  he  reserved  his  real 
strength  for  some  object  more  worthy  of  him.  More 
than  once  some  paradox  or  question  of  his  had  shaken 
her  neatest  systems  into  a  thousand  cracks,  and  opened 
up  ugly  depths  of  doubt,  even  on  the  most  seemingly  pal- 
pable certainties  ;  or  some  half-jesting  allusion  to  those 
Hebrew  Scriptures,  the  quantity  and  quality  of  his  faith 
in  which  he  would  never  confess,  made  her  indignant  at 
the  notion  that  he  considered  himself  in  possession  of  a 


174  IIYPATIA. 

reserved  ground  of  knowledge,  deeper  and  surer  than 
her  own,  hi  which  he  did  not  deign  to  allow  her  to  share. 

And  yet  she  was  irresistibly  attracted  to  him.  That 
deliberate  and  consistent  luxury  of  his,  from  which  she 
shrank,  he  had  always  boasted  that  he  was  able  to  put 
on  and  take  off  at  will  like  a  garment ;  and  now  he 
seemed  to  have  proved  his  words ;  to  be  a  worthy  rival 
of  the  great  Stoics  of  old  time.  Could  Zeno  himself 
have  asked  more  from  frail  humanity  .''  Moreover,  Ra- 
phael had  been  of  infinite  practical  use  to  her.  He 
worked  out,  unasked,  her  mathematical  problems ;  he 
looked  out  authorities,  kept  her  pupils  in  order  by  his 
bitter  tongue,  and  drew  fresh  students  to  her  lectures  by 
the  attractions  of  his  wit,  his  arguments,  and  last,  but 
not  least,  his  unrivalled  cook  and  cellar.  Above  all,  he 
acted  the  part  of  a  fierce  and  valiant  watch-dog  on  her 
behalf,  against  the  knots  of  clownish  and  often  brutal 
sophists,  the  wrecks  of  the  old  Cynic,  Stoic,  and  Aca- 
demic schools,  who,  w'ith  venom  increasing,  after  the 
wont  of  parties,  with  their  decrepitude,  assailed  the 
beautifully  bespangled  card-castle  of  Neo-Platonism,  as 
an  empty  medley  of  all  Greek  philosophies  with  all 
Eastern  superstitions.  All  such  Philistines  had  as  yet 
dreaded  the  pen  and  tongue  of  Raphael,  even  more  than 
those  of  the  chivalrous  Bishop  of  Cyrene,  though  he  cer- 
tainly, to  judge  from  certain  of  his  letters,  hated  them 
as  much  as  he  could  hate  any  human  being  ;  which  was 
after  all  not  very  bitterly. 

But  the  visits  of  Synesius  were  Ccw  and  far  between  ; 
the  distance  between  Carthage  and  Alexandria,  and  the 
labor  of  his  diocese,  and  worse  than  all,  tlie  growing 
difference  in  purpose  between  him  and  his  beautiful 
teacher,   made  his  protection  all    but  valueless.     And 


THE    EAST    WIND.  175 

now  Aben-Ezra  was  gone  too,  and  with  him  were  gone 
a  thousand  plans  and  hopes.  To  have  converted  him 
at  last  to  a  philosophic  faith  in  the  old  gods !  To  have 
made  him  her  instrument  for  turning  back  the  stream 

of  human  error ! How  often  had  that  dream 

crossed  her  !  And  now,  who  would  take  his  place  .'' 
Athanasius  ?  Synesius  in  his  good  nature  might  dignify 
him  with  the  name  of  brother,  but  to  her  he  was  a  pow- 
erless pedant,  destined  to  die  without  having  wrought 
any  deliverance  on  the  earth,  as  indeed  the  event 
proved.  Plutarch  of  Athens  ?  He  was  superannuated. 
Syrianus  ?  A  mere  logician,  twisting  Aristotle  to  mean 
what  she  knew,  and  he  ought  to  have  known,  Aristotle 
never  meant.  Her  father  ?  A  man  of  triangles  and 
conic  sections.  How  paltry  they  all  looked  by  the  side 
of  the  unfathomable  Jew  !  —  Spinners  of  charming  cob- 
webs ....  But  would  the  flies  condescend  to  be  caught 
in  them  !  Builders  of  pretty  houses  ....  If  people 
would  but  enter  and  live  in  them  !  Preachers  of  super- 
fine morality  ....  which  their  admiring  pupils  never 
dreamt  of  practising.  Without  her,  she  well  knew,  phi- 
losophy must  die  in  Alexandria.  And  was  it  her,  wis- 
dom —  or  other  and  more  earthly  charms  of  hers  — 
which  enabled  her  to  keep  it  alive  ?  Sickening  thought ! 
O  that  she  were  ugly,  only  to  test  the  power  of  her 
doctrines  !  .  .  .  . 

Ho  !  The  odds  were  fearftd  enough  already  :  she 
would  be  glad  of  any  help,  however  earthly  and  carnal. 
But  was  not  the  work  hopeless  ?  What  she  wanted  was 
men  who  could  act  while  she  thought.  And  those  were 
just  the  men  whom  she  would  find  nowhere,  but  —  she 
knew  it  too  well  —  in  the  hated  Christian  priesthood. 
And  then  that  fearful  Iphigenia  sacrifice  loomed  in  the 


176 


HYPATIA. 


distance  as  inevitable.     The  only  hope  of   philosophy 
was  in  her  despair  ! 

***** 

She  dashed  away  the  tears,  and  proudly  entered  the 
lecture-hall,  and  ascended  the  tribune  like  a  goddess, 
amid  the  shouts  of  her  audience  ....  What  did  she 
care  for  them  ?  Would  they  do  what  she  told  them  ? 
She  was  half  through  her  lecture  before  she  could  recol- 
lect herself,  and  banish  from  her  mind  the  thought  of 
Raphael.  And  at  that  point  we  will  take  the  lecture  up. 
***** 

"Truth!  Wlicre  is  truth,  but  in  the  soul  itself? 
Facts,  objects,  are  but  phantoms  matter-woven,  —  ghosts 
of  this  earthly  night,  at  which  the  soul,  sleeping  here  in 
the  mire  and  clay  of  matter,  shudders  and  names  its 
own  vague  tremors  sense  and  perception.  Yet,  even 
as  our  nightly  dreams  stir  in  us  the  suspicion  of  myste- 
rious and  immaterial  presences,  unfettered  by  the  bonds 
of  time  and  space,  so  do  these  waking  dreams  which 
we  call  sight  and  sound.  They  are  divine  messengers, 
whom  Zeus,  pitying  his  children,  even  when  he  pent 
them  in  this  prison-house  of  flesh,  appointed  to  arouse 
in  them  dim  recollections  of  that  real  world  of  souls 
whence  they  came.  Awakened  once  to  them  ;  seeing 
through  the  veil  of  sense  and  fact,  the  spiritual  truth  of 
which  they  are  but  the  accidental  garment,  concealing 
the  very  thing  which  they  make  palpable, —  the  philoso- 
pher may  neglect  the  fact  for  the  doctrine,  the  shell  for 
the  kernel,  the  body  for  the  soul,  of  which  it  is  but  the 
symbol  and  the  vehicle.  What  matter,  then,  to  the  phi- 
losopher whether  these  names  of  men.  Hector  or  Priam, 
Helen  or  Achilles,  were  ever  visible  as  phantoms  of 
flesh  and  blood  before  the  eyes  of  men  ?     What  matter 


THE    EAST    WIND.  177 

whether  they  spoke  or  thought  as  he  of  Scios  says  they 
did  ?  What  matter,  even,  whether  he  himself  ever  had 
earthly  life  ?  The  book  is  here,  —  the  word  which  men 
call  his.  Let  the  thoughts  thereof  have  been  at  first 
whose  they  may,  now  they  are  mine.  I  have  taken 
them  to  myself,  and  thought  them  to  myself,  and  made 
them  parts  of  my  own  soul.  Nay,  they  were  and  ever 
will  be  parts  of  me  ;  for  they,  even  as  the  poet  was, 
even  as  I  am,  are  but  a  part  of  the  universal  soul. 
What  matter,  then,  what  myths  grew  up  around  those 
mighty  thoughts  of  ancient  seers  ?  Let  others  try  to 
reconcile  the  Cyclic  fragments,  or  vindicate  the  Cata- 
logue of  ships.  What  has  the  philosopher  lost,  though 
the  former  were  proved  to  be  contradictory,  and  the  lat- 
ter interpolated  ?  The  thoughts  are  there,  and  ours. 
Let  us  open  our  hearts  lovingly  to  receive  them,  from 
whence  soever  they  may  have  come.  As  in  men,  so  in 
books,  the  soul  is  all  with  which  our  souls  must  deal  ; 
and  the  soul  of  the  book  is  whatsoever  beautiful,  and 
true,  and  noble,  we  can  find  in  it.  It  matters  not  to  us 
whether  the  poet  was  altogether  conscious  of  the  mean- 
ings which  we  can  find  in  him.  Consciously  or  uncon- 
sciously to  him,  the  meanings  must  be  there  ;  for  were 
they  not  there  to  be  seen,  how  could  we  see  them? 
There  are  those  among  the  uninitiate  vulgar  —  and 
those,  too,  who  carry  under  the  philosophic  cloak  hearts 
still  uninitiate  —  who  revile  such  interpretations  as 
merely  the  sophistic  and  arbitrary  sports  of  fancy.  It 
lies  with  them  to  show  what  Homer  meant,  if  our  spirit- 
ual meanings  be  absurd  ;  to  tell  the  world  why  Ho- 
mer is  admirable,  if  that  for  which  we  hold  him  up  to 
admiration  does  not  exist  in  him.  Will  they  say  that 
the  honor  which  he  has  enjoyed  for  ages  was  inspired 


178  IIYPATIA. 

by  that  which  seems  to  be  his  first  and  literal  meaning  ? 
And  more,  will  they  venture  to  impute  that  literal  mean- 
ing to  him  ?  Can  they  suppose  that  the  divine  soul  of 
Homer  could  degrade  itself  to  write  of  actual  and  phys- 
ical fcastings,  and  nuptials,  and  dances,  actual  nightly 
thefts  of  horses,  actual  fidelity  of  dogs  and  swineherds, 
actual  intermarriages  between  deities  and  men,  or  that 
it  is  this  seeming  vulgarity  which  has  won  for  him  from 
the  wisest  of  every  age  the  title  of  the  father  of  poetry? 
Degrading  thought !  fit  only  for  the  coarse  and  sense- 
bound  tribe  who  can  appreciate  nothing  but  what  is  pal- 
pable to  sense  and  sight !  As  soon  believe  the  Christian 
Scriptures,  when  they  tell  us  of  a  deity  who  has  hands 
and  feet,  eyes  and  ears,  who  condescends  to  command 
the  patterns  of  furniture  and  culinary  utensils,  and  is 
made  perfect  by  being  born  —  disgusting  thought !  — 
as  the  son  of  a  village  maiden,  and  defiling  himself  with 
the  wants  and  sorrows  of  the  lowest  slaves  !  " 

"  It  is  false  !    blasphemous  !     The  Scriptures  cannot 
lie  !  "  cried  a  voice  from  the  further  end  of  the  room. 

It  was  Philammon's.  He  had  been  listening  to  the 
whole  lecture,  and  yet  not  so  much  listening  as  watching, 
in  bewilderment,  the  beauty  of  the  speaker,  the  grace  of 
her  action,  the  melody  of  her  voice,  and  last,  but  not 
least,  the  maze  of  her  rhetoric,  as  it  glittered  before  his 
mind's  eye,  like  a  cobweb  diamonded  with  dew.  A 
sea  of  new  thoughts  and  questions,  if  not  of  doubts, 
came  rushing  in  at  every  sentence  on  his  acute  Greek 
intellect,  all  the  more  plentifully  and  irresistibly  because 
his  speculative  faculty  was  as  yet  altogether  waste  and 
empty,  undefended  by  any  scientific  culture  from  the 
inrushinji  flood.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  found 
himself  face   to   face   with   the    root  questions   of  all 


THE    EAST   WIND.  179 

thought,—  "  What  am  I,  and  where  ?  "  "  What  can  I 
know  ?  "  And  in  the  half-terrified  struggle  with  them, 
he  had  all  but  forgotten  the  purpose  for  which  he  en- 
tered the  lecture-hall.  He  felt  that  he  must  break  the 
spell.  Was  she  not  a  heathen  and  a  false  prophetess  ? 
Here  was  something  tangible  to  attack  ;  and  half  in  in- 
dignation at  the  blasphemy,  half  in  order  to  force  him- 
self into  action,  he  had  sprung  up  and  spoken. 

A  yell  arose.  "  Turn  the  monk  out !  "  "  Throw  the 
rustic  through  the  window  !  "  cried  a  dozen  young  gen- 
tlemen. Several  of  the  most  valiant  began  to  scramble 
over  the  benches  up  to  him  ;  and  Philammon  was  con- 
gratulating himself  on  the  near  approach  of  a  glorious 
martyrdom,  when  Hypatia's  voice,  calm  and  silvery, 
stifled  the  tumult  in  a  moment. 

"  Let  the  youth  listen,  gentlemen.  He  is  but  a  monk 
and  a  plebeian,  and  knows  no  better  ;  he  has  been 
taught  thus.  Let  him  sit  here  quietly,  and  perhaps  we 
may  be  able  to  teach  him  otherwise." 

And  without  interrupting,  even  by  a  change  of  tone, 
the  thread  of  her  discourse,  she  continued  :  — 

"  Listen,  then,  to  a  passage  from  the  sixth  book  of 
the  '  Iliad,'  in  which  last  night  I  seemed  to  see  glimpses 
of  some  mighty  mystery.  You  know  it  well  :  yet  I 
will  read  it  to  you  ;  the  very  sound  and  pomp  of  that 
great  verse  may  tune  our  souls  to  a  fit  key  for  the  re- 
ception of  lofty  wisdom.  For  well  said  Abamnon  the 
Teacher,  that  '  the  soul  consisted  first  of  harmony  and 
rhythm,  and  ere  it  gave  itself  to  the  body,  had  listened 
to  the  divine  harmony.  Therefore  it  is  that  when,  after 
having  come  into  a  body,  it  hears  such  melodies  as  most 
preserve  the  divine  footstep  of  harmony,  it  embraces 
such,  and  recollects  from  them  that  divine  harmony, 


180  HYPATIA. 

and  is  impelled  to  it,  and  finds  its  home  in  it,  and  shares 
of  it  as  much  as  it  can  share.'  " 

And  therewith  fell  on   Philammon's  ear,  for  the  first 
time,  the  mighty  thunder-roll  of  Homer's  verse  :  — 

"  So  spoke  the  stewardess  :  but  Hector  rushed 
From  the  house,  the  same  way  back,  down  stately  streets, 
Throu^'h  tlie  broad  city,  to  the  Scaian  gates, 
Whereby  he  must  go  forth  toward  the  plain, 
There  running  toward  him  came  Andromache, 
His  am])le-dowered  wife,  Eetion's  child,  — 
Eetion  the  great-lieartcd,  he  who  dwelt 
In  Thebe  under  Placos,  and  the  woods 
Of  Placos,  ruling  over  Kilic  men. 
His  daughter  wedded  Hector  brazen-helmed, 
And  met  him  then ;  and  with  her  came  a  maid, 
Who  bore  in  arms  a  playful-hearted  babe, 
An  infant  still,  akin  to  some  fair  star. 
Only  and  wcll-lovcd  child  of  Hectors  house, 
Whom  he  had  named  Scamandrios,  but  the  rest 
Astyanax,  because  his  sire  alone 
Upheld  the  weal  of  Ilion  the  holy. 
He  smiled  in  silence,  looking  on  his  child : 
But  she  stood  close  to  him,  with  many  tears  ; 
And  hung  upon  his  liand,  and  spoke,  and  called  him. 

" '  !My  hero,  thy  great  heart  will  wear  thee  out ; 
Thou  pitiest  not  thine  infant  child,  nor  me 
The  hapless,  soon  to  be  thy  widow ; 
The  Greeks  will  slay  thee,  falling  one  and  all 
Upon  thee  :  but  to  me  were  sweeter  far. 
Having  lost  thee,  to  die  ;  no  cheer  to  mc 
Will  come  thenceforth,  if  thou  shouldst  meet  thy  fate  ; 
Woes  only:  mother  have  I  none,  nor  sire. 
For  that  my  sire  divine  Achilles  slew, 
And  wasted  utterly  the  pleasant  homes 
Of  Kilic  folk  in  Thebe  lofty-walled, 
And  slew  Eetion  with  the  sword  ;  yet  spared 
To  strip  the  dead  :  awe  kept  his  soul  from  that. 
Therefore  he  burnt  him  in  his  graven  arms, 


THE    EAST    WIND. 

And  heaped  a  mound  above  him  ;  and  around, 

The  damsels  of  the  iEgis-holding  Zeus, 

The  nymphs  who  haunt  the  upland,  planted  elms. 

And  seven  brothers  bred  with  me  in  the  halls, 

All  in  one  day  went  down  to  Hades  there ; 

For  all  of  them  swift-foot  Achilles  slew 

Beside  the  lazy  kine  and  snow-white  sheep. 

And  her,  my  mother,  who  of  late  was  queen 

Beneath  the  woods  of  Placos,  he  brought  here 

Among  his  other  spoils ;  yet  set  her  free 

Again,  receiving  ransom  rich  and  great. 

But  Artemis,  whose  bow  is  all  her  joy, 

Smote  her  to  death  within  her  father's  halls. 

Hector !  so  thou  art  father  to  me  now, 

Mother,  and  brother,  and  husband  fair  and  strong! 

O,  come  now,  pity  me,  and  stay  thou  here 

Upon  the  tower,  nor  make  thy  child  an  orphan 

And  me  thy  wife  a  widow  ;  range  the  men 

Here  by  the  fig-tree,  where  the  city  lies 

Lowest,  and  where  the  wall  can  well  be  scaled ; 

For  here  three  times  the  best  have  tried  the  assault 

Eound  either  Ajax,  and  Idoraeneus, 

And  round  the  Atridai  both,  and  Tydeus'  son, 

"Whether  some  cunning  seer  taught  them  craft, 

Or  their  own  spirit  stirred  and  drove  them  on.' 

"  Then  spake  tall  Hector,  with  the  glancing  helm ; 
'All  this  I  too  have  watched,  my  wife ;  yet  much 
I  hold  in  dread  the  scorn  of  Trojan  men 
And  Trojan  women  with  their  trailing  shawls. 
If,  like  a  coward,  I  should  skulk  from  war. 
Beside,  I  have  no  lust  to  stay  ;  I  have  learnt 
Aye  to  be  bold,  and  lead  the  van  of  fight, 
To  win  my  father,  and  myself,  a  name. 
For  well  I  know,  at  heart  and  in  my  thought, 
The  day  will  come  when  Ilios  the  holy 
Shall  lie  in  heaps,  and  Priam,  and  the  folk 
Of  ashen-speared  Priam,  perish  all. 
But  yet  no  woe  to  come  to  Trojan  men. 
Nor  even  to  Hecabe,  nor  Priam  king. 
Nor  to  my  brothers,  who  shall  roll  in  dust, 


182  •  HYPATIA. 

Many  and  Aiir,  ])eneath  the  strokes  of  foes, 

So  moves  me,  as  doth  thine,  when  thou  shalt  go 

Weeping,  led  off  by  some  brass-harnesscd  Greek, 

Eobbed  of  the  daylight  of  thy  liberty, 

To  weave  in  Argos  at  another's  loom, 

Or  bear  the  water  of  RIesseis  home, 

Or  Hypereia,  with  unseemly  toils, 

WHiile  heavy  doom  constrains  thee,  and  perchance 

The  folk,  may  say,  who  see  thy  tears  run  down, 

"  This  was  the  wife  of  Hector,  best  in  fight 

At  Ilium,  of  horse-taming  Trojan  men." 

So  will  they  say  perchance  ;  while  unto  thee 

Now  grief  will  come,  for  such  a  husband's  loss. 

Who  might  have  warded  off  the  day  of  thrall. 

But  may  the  soil  be  heaped  above  my  corpse 

Before  I  hear  thy  shriek  and  see  thy  shame  ! ' 

'•  He  spoke,  and  stretched  his  arms  to  take  the  child 
But  back  the  child  upon  his  nurse's  breast 
Shrank  crying,  friglitcned  at  his  father's  looks, 
Fearing  the  brass  and  crest  of  horse's  hair 
Which  waved  above  the  helmet  terribly. 
Then  out  that  father  dear  and  mother  laughed, 
And  glorious  Hector  took  the  helmet  off. 
And  laid  it  gleaming  on  the  ground,  and  kiss'd 
His  darling  child,  and  danced  him  in  his  arms ; 
And  s])oke  in  prayer  to  Zeus,  and  all  the  gods : 
'  Zeu,  and  ye  other  gods,  O  grant  that  this 
My  child,  like  me,  may  grow  the  champion  here 
As  good  in  strength,  and  rule  with  might  in  Troy. 
That  men  may  say,  "  The  boy  is  better  far 
Than  was  his  sire,"  when  he  returns  from  war, 
Bearing  a  gory  harness,  having  slain 
A  foeman,  and  his  mother's  heart  rejoice.' 
Thus  saying,  on  the  hands  of  his  dear  wife 
He  laid  the  child  ;  and  she  received  him  back 
In  fragrant  bosom,  smiling  through  her  tears."  * 


*  The  above  lines  arc  not  meant  as  a  "  translation,"  but  as  an 
bumble  attempt  to  give  the  literal  sense  in  some  sort  of  metre.    It 


THE    EAST    WIND.  183 

"  Such  is  the  myth.  Do  you  fancy  that  in  it  Homer 
meant  to  hand  down  to  the  admiration  of  ages  such 
earthly  commonplaces  as  a  mother's  brute  affection, 
and  the  terrors  of  an  infant  ?  Surely  the  deeper  in- 
sight of  the  philosopher  may\be  allowed,  without  the  re- 
proach of  fancifulness,  to  see  in  it  the  adumbration  of 
some  deeper  mystery. 

"  The  elect  soul,  for  instance,  —  is  not  its  name  As- 
tyanax,  king  of  the  city  ;  by  the  fact  of  its  ethereal  par- 
entage, the  leader  and  lord  of  all  around  it,  though  it 
knows  it  not  ?  A  child  as  yet,  it  lies  upon  the  fragrant 
bosom  of  its  mother  Nature,  the  nurse  and  yet  the  en- 
emy of  man,  —  Andromache,  as  the  poet  well  names 
her,  because  she  fights  with  that  being,  when  grown  to 
man's  estate,  whom  as  a  child  she  nourished.  Fair  is 
she,  yet  unwise  ;  pampering  us,  after  the  fashion  of 
mothers,  with  weak  indulgences ;  fearing  to  send  us 
forth  into  the  great  realities  of  speculation,  there  to  for- 
get her  in  the  pursuit  of  glory,  she  would  have  us 
while  away  our  prime  within  the  harem,  and  play  for 
ever  round  her  knees.  And  has  not  the  elect  soul  a 
father,  too,  whom  it  knows  not  ?  Hector,  he  who  is 
without,  —  unconfined,  unconditioned  by  Nature,  yet  its 
husband.?  —  the  all-pervading  plastic  Soul,  informing, 
organizing,  whom  men  call  Zeus  the  lawgiver,  iEther 

would  be  an  act  of  arrogance  even  to  aim  at  success  where  Pope 
and  Chapman  failed.  It  is  simply,  I  believe,  impossible  to  render 
Homer  into  English  verse  ;  because,  for  one  reason  among  many, 
it  is  impossible  to  preserve  the  pomp  of  sound,  which  invests  with 
grandeur  his  most  common  words.  How  can  any  skill  represent 
the  rhythm  of  Homeric  Greek  in  a  language  which  —  to  take  the 
first  verse  which  comes  to  hand  —  transforms  "  boos  megaloio 
boeien,"  into  "  great  ox's  hide  "  ?  ' 


184  HYPATIA,  \ 

the  fire,  Osiris  the  lifegivcr ;  whom  here  the  poet  has 
set  forth  as  the  defender  of  tlie  mystic  city,  the  defender 
of  harmony  and  order  and  beauty  throughout  the  uni- 
verse ?  Apart  sits  his  great  father,  —  Priam,  tlic  first 
of  existences,  father  of  many  sons,  the  Absolute  Rea- 
son ;  unseen,  tremendous,  immovable,  in  distant  glory  ; 
yet  himself  amenable  to  that  abysmal  unity  which  Ho- 
mer calls  Fate,  the  source  of  all  which  is,  yet  in  Itself 
Nothing,  without  predicate,  unnamable. 

"  From  It  and  for  It  the  universal  Soul  thrills  through 
the  whole  creation,  doing  the  behests  of  that  Reason 
from  which  it  overflowed,  unwillingly,  into  the  storm 
and  crowd  of  material  appearances  ;  warring  with  the 
brute  forces  of  gross  matter,  crushing  all  which  is  foul 
and  dissonant  to  itself,  and  clasping  to  its  bosom  the 
beautiful,  and  all  wherein  it  discovers  its  own  reflex  ; 
impressing  on  it  its  signature,  reproducing  from  it  its  own 
likeness,  whether  star,  or  daemon,  or  soul  of  the  elect :  — 
and  yet,  as  the  poet  hints  in  anthropomorphic  language, 
haunted  all  the  while  by  a  sadness,  —  weighed  down 
amid  all  its  labors  by  the  sense  of  a  fate,  —  by  the 
thought  of  that  First  One  from  whom  the  Soul  is  orig- 
inally descended  ;  from  whom  it,  and  its  Father  the 
Reason  before  it,  parted  themselves  when  they  dared  to 
think  and  act,  and  assert  their  own  free-will. 

"  And  in  the  mean  while,  alas  !  Hector,  the  father, 
fights  around,  while  his  children  sleep  and  feed  ;  and  he 
is  away  in  the  wars,  and  they  know  him  not,  —  know 
not  that  they  the  individuals  are  but  parts  of  him  the 
universal.  And  yet  at  moments  —  oh  !  thrice  blessed 
they  whose  celestial  parentage  has  made  such  moments 
purt  of  their  appointed  destiny  —  at  moments  flashes 
on  the  human  child  the  intuition  of  the  unutterable  se- 


THE    EAST    WIND.  185 

cret.  In  the  spangled  glory  of  the  summer  night,  —  in 
the  roar  of  the  Nile-flood,  sweeping  down  fertility  in 
every  wave, —  in  the  awful  depths  of  the  temple  shrine, 
—  in  the, wild  melodies  of  old  Orphic  singers,  or  before 
the  images  of  those  gods  of  whose  perfect  beauty  the 
divine  theosophists  of  Greece  caught  a  fleeting  shadow, 
and  with  the  sudden  might  of  artistic  ecstasy  smote  it, 
as  by  an  enchanter's  wand,  into  an  eternal  sleep  of 
snowy  stone,  —  in  these  there  flashes  on  the  inner  eye 
a  vision  beautiful  and  -terrible,  of  a  force,  an  enersv.  a 
soul,  an  idea,  one  and  vet  million-fold,  rushing  throucrh 
all  created  things,  like  the  wind  across  a  lyre,  thrilling 
the  strings  into  celestial  harmony,  —  one  lifeblood 
through  the  million  veins  of  the  universe,  from  one 
great  unseen  heart,  whose  thunderous  pulses  the  mind 
hears  far  away,  beating  for  ever  in  the  abysmal  solitude, 
beyond  the  heavens  and  the  galaxies,  beyond  the  spaces 
and  the  times,  themselves  but  veins  and  runnels  from  its 
all-teeming  sea. 

"  Happy,  thrice  happy,  they  who  once  have  dared, 
even  though  breathless,  blinded  with  tears  of  awful  joy, 
struck  down  upon  their  knees  in  utter  helplessness,  as 
they  feel  themselves  but  dead  leaves  in  the  wind  which 
sweeps  the  universe,  —  happy  they  who  have  dared  to 
gaze,  if  but  for  an  instant,  on  the  terror  of  that  glorious 
pageant ;  who  have  not,  like  the  young  Astyanax,  clung 
shrieking  to  the  breast  of  mother  Nature,  scared  by  the 
heaven-wide  flash  of  Hector's  arms,  and  the  glitter  of 
his  rainbow-crest !  Happy,  thrice  happy  !  even  though 
their  eyeballs,  blasted  by  excess  of  light,  wither  to  ashes 
in  their  sockets  !  —  Were  it  not  a  noble  end  to  have 
seen  Zeus,  and  die  like  Semele,  burnt  up  by  his  glory  ? 
Happy,  thrice  happy  !  though  their  mind  reel  from  the 

VOL.   I.  13 


186  HYPATIA. 

divine  intoxication,  and  the  hogs  of  Circe  call  them 
henceforth  madmen  and  enthusiasts.  Enthusiasts  they 
are ;  for  Deity  is  in  them,  and  they  in  It.  For  the  time, 
this  burden  of  individuality  vanishes,  and  recognizing 
themselves  as  portions  of  the  universal  Soul,  they  rise 
upward,  through  and  beyond  that  Reason  from  whence 
the  soul  proceeds,  to  the  fount  of  all,  —  the  ineffable 
and  Supreme  One,  —  and  seeing  It,  become  by  that  act 
portions  of  Its  essence.  They  speak  no  more,  but  It 
speaks  in  them,  and  their  whole- being,  transmuted  by 
that  glorious  sunlight  into  whose  rays  they  have  dared, 
like  the  cligle,  to  gaze  without  shrinking,  becomes  an 
harmonious  vehicle  for  the  words  of  Deity,  and,  passive 
itself,  utters  the  secrets  of  the  immortal  gods.  What 
wonder  if  to  the   brute  mass   they  seem  as  dreamers  ? 

Be  it  so Smile  if  you  will.     But  ask  me  not  to 

teach  you  things  unspeakable,  above  all  sciences,  which 
the  word-battle  of  dialectic,  the  discursive  strutrwles  of 
reason,  can  never  reach,  but  which  must  be  seen  only, 
and  when  seen,  confessed  to  be  unspeakable.  Hence, 
thou  disputer  of  the  Academy  !  —  hence,  thou  sneering 
Cynic  !  —  hence,  thou  sense-worshipping  Stoic,  who 
fanciest  that  the  soul  is  to  derive  her  knowledge  from 
those   material  appearances  wich  she   herself  creates  ! 

....  hence ;  and  yet,  no  ;  stay  and  sneer,  if  you 

will.  It  is  but  a  little  time,  a  few  days  longer  in  this 
prison-house  of  our  degradation,  and  each  thing  shall 
return  to  its  own  fountain  ;  the  blood-drop  to  the  abys- 
mal heart,  and  the  water  to  the  river,  and  the  river 
to  the  shining  sea  ;  and,  the  dew-drop  which  fell  from 
heaven  shall  rise  to  heaven  again,  shaking  off  the  dust- 
grains  which  weighed  it  down,  thawed  from  the  earth- 
frost  which  chained  it  here  to  herb  and  sward,  upward 


THE    EAST    WIND.  187 

and  upward  ever  through  stars  and  suns,  through  gods, 
and  through  the  parents  of  the  gods,  purer  and  purer 
through  successive  lives,  till  it  enters  The  Nothing, 
which  is  The  All,  and  finds  its  home  at  last."  .... 

And  the  speaker  stopped  suddenly,  her  eyes  glisten- 
ing with  tears,  her  whole  figure  trembling  and  dilating 
with  rapture.  She  remained  for  a  moment  motionless, 
gazing  earnestly  at  her  audience,  as  if  in  hopes  of  ex- 
citing in  them  some  kindred  glow  ;  and  then  recovering 
herself,  added  in  a  more  tender  tone,  not  quite  unmixed 
with  sadness,  — 

"  Go  now,  my  pupils.  Hypatia  has  no  more  for  you 
to-day.  Go  now,  and  spare  her  at  least  —  woman  as 
she  is  after  all  —  the  shame  of  finding  that  she  has 
given  you  too  much,  and  lifted  the  veil  of  Isis  before 
eyes  which  are  not  enough  purified  to  behold  the  glory 
of  the  goddess.  —  Farewell  !  " 

She  ended  :  and  Philammon,  the  moment  that  the 
spell  of  her  voice  was  taken  ofi'  him,  ^rung  up,  aid 
hurried  out  through  the  corridor  into  the  street 

So  beautiful !  So  calm  and  merciful  to  him  !  So 
enthusiastic  towards  all  which  was  noble  !  Had  not 
she,  too,  spoken  of  the  unseen  world,  of  the  hope  of 
immortality,  of  the  conquest  of  the  spirit  over  the  flesh, 
just  as  a  Christian  might  have  done  ?  Was  the  gulf  be- 
tween them  so  infinite  ?  If  so,  why  had  her  aspirations 
awakened  echoes  in  his  own  heart,  —  echoes,  too,  just 
such  as  the  prayers  and  lessons  of  the  Laura  used  to 
awaken  ?  If  the  fruit  was  so  like,  must  not  the  root  be 
like  also  .?....  Could  that  be  a  counterfeit  ?  That  a 
minister  of  Satan  in  the  robes  of  an  angel  of  light  ? 
Light,  at  least,  it  was,  —  purity,  simplicity,  courage, 
earnestness,  tenderness,  flashed  out  from  eye,  lip,  ges- 


188  HYPATIA. 

ture A  heathen,  who  disbelieved  ?  .  .  .  .  What 

was  the  meaning  of  it  all  ? 

But  the  finishing  stroke  yet  remained  which  was  to 
complete  the  utter  confusion  of  his  mind.  For  before 
he  had  gone  fifty  yards  up  the  street,  his  little  friend  of 
the  fruit-basket,  whom  he  had  not  seen  since  he  van- 
ished under  the  feet  of  the  mob,  in  the  gateway  of  the 
theatre,  clutched  him  by  the  arm  and  burst  forth,  breath- 
less with  running,  — 

"  The  —  gods  —  heap  their  favors  —  on  those  who  — 
who  least  deserve  them  !  Rash  and  insolent  rustic  ! 
And  this  is  the  reward  of  thy  madness  ! " 

"  Oft'  with  you  !  "  said  Philammon,  who  had  no  mind 
at  the  moment  to  renew  his  acquaintance  with  the  little 
porter.  But  the  guardian  of  parasols  kept  a  firm  hold 
on  his  sheep-skin. 

"  Fool !  Hypatia  herself  commands  !  Yes,  you  will 
see  her,  have  speech  with  her  !  while  I  —  I,  the  illu- 
minated, —  I  the  appreciating,  —  I  the  obedient,  —  I 
the  adoring,  —  who  for  these  three  years  past  have  grov- 
elled in  the  kennel,  that  the  hem  of  her  garment  might 
touch  the  tip  of  my  little  finger,  —  I  —  I  —  I  —  " 

"  \Vliat  do  you  want,  madman  ?  " 

"  She  calls  for  thee,  insensate  wretch  !  Theon  sent 
me, —  breathless  at  once  with  running  and  with  envy  — 
Go  !  favorite  with  the  unjust  gods  !" 

"  Who  is  Theon  ?  " 

"  Her  father,  ignorant !  He  commands  tlice  to  be 
at  her  house  —  here  —  opposite  —  to-morrow  at  the 
third  hour.  Hear  and  obey  !  There  !  they  are  com- 
ing out  of  the  Museum,  and  all  the  parasols  will  get 
wrong  !     O  miserable  me  !  " 

And  the  poor  little  fellow  rushed  back  again,  while 


THE    EAST    WIXD.  189 

Philammon,  at  his  wits'  end  between  dread  and  longing, 
started  ofT,  and  ran  the  whole  way  home  to  the  Sera- 
peium,  regardless  of  carriages,  elephants,  and  foot-pas- 
sengers ;  and  having  been  knocked  down  by  a  surly 
porter,  and  left  a  piece  of  his  sheepskin  between  the 
teeth  of  a  spiteful  camel,  —  neither  of  which  insults  he 
had  time  to  resent,  —  arrived  at  the  archbishop's  house, 
found  Peter  the  Reader,  and  tremblingly  begged  an  au- 
dience from  Cvril. 


190 


CHAPTER    IX. 

THE    SNAPPING    OF    THE    BOW. 

Cyril  heard  Philammon's  story  and  Hypatia's  mes- 
sage with  a  quiet  smile,  and  then  dismissed  the  youth 
to  an  afternoon  of  labor  in  the  city,  commanding  him 
to  mention  no  word  of  what  had  happened,  and  to  come 
to  him  that  evening  and  receive  his  order,  when  he 
should  have  had  time  to  think  over  the  matter.  So  forth 
Philammon  went  with  his  companions,  through  lanes 
and  alleys  hideous  with  filth  and  poverty,  compulsory 
idleness  and  native  sin.  Fearfully  real  and  practical  it 
all  was  ;  but  he  saw  it  all  dimly,  as  in  a  dream.  Before 
his  eyes  one  face  was  shining  ;  in  his  ears  one  silvery 

voice  was  ringing "  He  is  a  monk,  and  knows 

no  better."  ....  True  !  And  how  should  he  know 
better  ?  How  could  he  tell  how  much  more  there  was 
to  know,  in  that  great  new  universe,  in  such  a  cranny 
whereof  his  life  had  till  now  been  past  ?  He  had  heard 
but  one  side  already.  What  if  there  were  two  sides .'' 
Had  he  not  a  right  — that  is,  was  it  not  proper,  fair, 
prudent,  that  he  should  hear  both,  and  then  judge  .? 

Cyril  had  hardly,  perhaps,  done  wisely  for  the  youth 
in  sending-  him   out   about   the  practical    drudgery  of 


THE    SNAPPING    OF    THE    BOW.  191 

benevolence,  before  deciding  for  him  what  was  his  duty 
with  regard  to  Hypatia's  invitation.  He  had  not  calcu- 
lated on  the  new  thoughts  which  were  tormenting  the 
young  monk ;  perhaps  they  would  have  been  unintelli- 
gible to  him,  had  he  known  of  them.  Cyril  had  been 
bred  up  under  the  most  stern  dogmatic  training,  in 
those  vast  monastic  establishments,  which  had  arisen 
amid  the  neighboring  saltpetre  quarries  of  Nitria,  where 
thousands  toiled  in  voluntary  poverty  and  starvation  at 
vast  bakeries,  dyeries,  brick-fields,  tailors'  shops,  car- 
penters' yards  ;  and  expended  the  profits  of  their  labor, 
not  on  themselves,  for  they  had  need  of  nothing,  but  on 
churches,  hospitals,  and  alms.  Educated  in  that  world 
of  practical  industrial  production  as  well  as  of  religious 
exercise,  which  by  its  proximity  to  the  great  city  accus- 
tomed monks  to  that  world  which  they  despised  ;  en- 
tangled from  boyhood  in  the  intrigues  of  his  fierce  and 
ambitious  uncle  Theophilus,  Cyril  had  succeeded  him 
in  the  patriarchate  of  Alexandria  without  having  felt  a 
doubt,  and  stood  free  to  throw  his  fiery  energy  and 
clear  practical  intellect  into  the  cause  of  the  Church 
without  scruple,  even,  where  necessary,  without  pity. 
How  could  such  a  man  sympathize  with  the  poor  boy 
of  twenty,  suddenly  dragged  forth  from  the  quiet  cav- 
ern-shadow of  the  Laura  into  the  full  blaze  and  roar 
of  the  world's  noonday  ?  He,  too,  was  cloister-bred. 
But  the  busy  and  fanatic  atmosphere  of  Nitria,  where 
every  nerve  of  soul  and  body  was  kept  on  a  life-long 
artificial  strain,  without  rest,  without  simplicity,  without 
human  affection,  was  utterly  antipodal  to  the  govern- 
ment of  the  remote  and  needy,  though  no  less  industri- 
ous commonwealths  of  Coenobites,  who  dotted  the 
lonely  moirntain-glens,  far   up  into  the   heart   of  the 


192 


HYPATIA. 


Nubian  desert.  In  such  a  one  Philammon  had  received, 
from  a  venerable  man,  a  motlier's  sympathy  as  well  as 
a  father's  care  ;  and  now  he  yearned  for  the  encourage- 
ment of  a  gentle  voice,  for  the  greeting  of  a  kindly  eye, 

and  was  lonely  and  sick  at  heart And  still  Hypa- 

tia's  voice  haunted  his  ears,  like  a  strain  of  music, 
and  would  not  die  away.  That  lofty  enthusiasm,  so 
sweet  and  modest  in  its  grandeur,  that  tone  of  pity  — 
in  one  so  lovely  it  could  not  be  called  contempt  — .for 
the  many ;  that  delicious  phantom  of  being  an  elect 
spirit  ....  unlike  the  crowd "  And  am  I  alto- 
gether like  the  crowd  ?  "  said  Philammon  to  himself, 
as  he  staggered  along  under  the  weight  of  a  groaning 
fever-patient.  "  Can  there  be  found  no  fitter  work  for 
me  than  this,  which  any  porter  from  the  quay  might  do 
as  well  ?  Am  I  not  somewhat  wasted  on  such  toil  as 
this  ?  Have  I  not  an  intellect,  a  taste,  a  reason  ?  I 
could  appreciate  what  she  said.  —  Why  should  not 
my  faculties  be  educated  ?  Why  am  I  only  to  be  shut 
out  from  knowledge  ?  There  is  a  Christian  Gnosis  as 
well  as  a  heathen  one.  What  was  permissible  to  Cle- 
ment"—  he  had  nearly  said  to  Origen,  but  checked 
himself  on  the  edge  of  heresy  —  "  is  surely  lawful  for 
me.  Is  not  my  very  craving  for  knowledge  a  sign  that 
I  am  capable  of  it  ?  Surely  my  sphere  is  the  study, 
rather  than  the  street !  " 

And  then  his  fellow-laborers  — he  could  not  deny  it 
to  himself — began  to  grow  less  venerable  in  his  eyes. 
Let  him  try  as  he  might  to  forget  the  old  pi'iest's  grum- 
blings and  detractions,  the  fact  was  before  him.     The 

men  were  coarse,  fierce,  noisy so  different  from 

her  !  Their  talk  seemed  mere  gossip, —  scandalous  too, 
and  hard-judging,  most  of  it ;  about  that  man's  private 


THE    SXAPPING    OF    THE    BOW.  193 

ambition,  and  that  woman's  proud  look  ;  and  who  had 
stayed  for  the  Eucharist  the  Sunday  before,  and  who 
had  gone  out  after  the  sermon  ;  and  how  the  majority 
who  did  not  stay  could  possibly  dare  to  go,  and  how  the 
minority  who  did  not  go  could  possibly  dare  to  stay. 

Endless    suspicions,    sneers,  complaints 

what  did  they   cai'e    for   the    eternal    glories    and    the 
beatific  vision  ?     Their  one  test  for  all  men  and  things, 
from  the  patriarch  to  the  prefect,  seemed  to  be,  —  Did 
he  or  it  advance    the  cause  of  the  Church  ?  —  which 
Philammon  soon  discovered  to  mean  their  own  cause, 
their   influence,  their  self-glorification.     And  the  poor 
boy,  as  his   faculty   for  fault-finding  quickened   under 
the  influence  of  theirs,  seemed  to  see  under  the  humble 
stock-phrases   in    which  they  talked   of  their  labors  of 
love,  and  the  future  reward  of  their  present  humilia- 
tions, a  deep  and  hardly  hidden  pride,  a  faith  in  their 
own  infallibility,  a   contemptuous   impatience  of  every 
man,  however  venerable,  who  differed  from  their  party 
on  any,  the  slightest,  matter.     They  spoke  with  sneers 
of  Augustine's  Latinizing    tendencies,  and  with   open 
execrations  of  Chrysostom,  as  the  vilest  and  most  impi- 
ous of  schismatics  ;    and  for  aught  Philammon  knew, 
they  were  right  enough.     But  when  they  talked  of  wars 
and  desolation  past  and  impending,  without  a  word  of 
pity   for   the   slain  and  ruined,  as  a  just  judgment   of 
Heaven  upon  heretics  and  heathens  ;  when  they  argued 
over  the  awful  struggle  for  power  which,  as  he  gath- 
ered from  their  words,  was  even  then  pending  between 
the  Emperor  and  the  Count  of  Africa,  as  if  it  contained 
but  one  question  of  interest  to  them,  —  Would  Cyril,  and 
they  as  his  body-guard,  gain  or  lose  power  in  Alexan- 
dria ?  and  lastly,  when  at  some  mention  of  Orestes,  and 


194 


HYPATIA. 


of  Hypatia  as  his  counsellor,  they  broke  out  into  open 
imprecations  of  God's  curse,  and  comforted  themselves 
with  the  prospect  of  everlasting  torment  for  both ;  — 
he  shuddered  and  asked  himself  involuntarily,  Were 
these  the  ministers  of  a  Gospel  ?     Were  these  the  fruits 

of  Christ's  Spirit  ? And  a  whisper  thrilled  through 

the  inmost  depth  of  his  soul,  —  "  Is  there  a  Gospel  ? 
Is  there  a  Spirit  of  Christ  ?  Would  not  their  fruits  be 
different  from  these  ?  " 

Faint,  and  low,  and  distant,  was  that  whisper ;  like 
the  mutter  of  an  earthquake  miles  below  the  soil.  And 
yet,  like  the  earthquake-roll,  it  had  in  that  one  moment 
jarred  every  belief,  and  hope,  and  memory  of  his  being 

each  a  hair's  breadth  from   its   place Only   one 

hair's  breadth.  But  that  was  enough  ;  his  whole  inward 
and  outward  world  changed  shape,  and  cracked  at 
every  joint.  What  if  it  were  to  full  in  pieces?-  His 
brain  reeled  with  the  thought.  He  doubted  his  own 
identity.  The  very  light  of  heaven  had  altered  its  hue. 
Was  the  firm  ground  on  which   he  stood  after  all   no 

solid   reality,  but  a  fragile  shell  which   covered 

what } 

The  nightmare  vanished,  and  he  breathed  once  more. 
What  a  strange  dream!  The  sun  and  the  exertion 
must  have  made  him  giddy.  He  would  forget  all 
about  it. 

Weary  with  labor,  and  still  wearier  with  thought, 
he  returned  that  evening,  longing,  and  yet  dreading,  to 
be  permitted  to  speak  with  Hypatia.  He  half  hoped  at 
moments  that  Cyril  might  think  him  too  weak  for  it ; 
and  the  next,  all  his  pride  and  daring,  not  to  say  his 
faith  and  hope,  spurred  him  on.  Might  he  but  face  the 
terrible  enchantress,  and  rebuke  her  to  her  face  !     And 


THE    SNAPPING    OF    THE    BOW.  195 

yet  so  lovely,  so  noble  as  she  looked  !  Could  he  speak 
to  her,  except  in  tones  of  gentle  warnhig,  pity,  counsel, 
entreaty  ?  Might  he  not  convert  her,  —  save  her  ?  Glo- 
rious thought !  To  win  such  a  soul  to  the  true  cause  ! 
To  be  able  to  show,  as  the  first  fruits  of  his  mission,  the 
very  champion  of  heathendom  !  It  was  worth  while  to 
have  lived  only  to  do  that ;  and  having  done  it,  to  die. 

The  archbishop's  lodgings,  when  he  entered  them, 
were  in  a  state  of  ferment  even  greater  than  usual. 
Groups  of  monks,  priests,  parabolani,  and  citizens,  rich 
and  poor,  were  hanging  about  the  court-yard,  talking 
earnestly  and  angrily.  A  large  party  of  monks  fresh 
from  Nitria,  with  ragged  hair  and  beards,  and  the  pecu- 
liar expression  of  countenance  which  fanatics  of  all 
creeds  acquire,  fierce  and  yet  abject,  self-conscious  and 
yet  ungoverned,  silly  and  yet  sly,  with  features  coars- 
ened and  degraded  by  continual  fasting  and  self-torture, 
prudishly  shrouded  from  head  to  heel  in  their  long,  rag- 
ged .gowns,  were  gesticulating  wildly  and  loudly,  and 
calling  on  their  more  peaceable  companions,  in  no 
measured  terms,  to  revenge  some  insult  offered  to  the 
Church. 

"  What  is.the  matter  ?  "  asked  Philammon  of  a  quiet, 
portly  citizen,  who- stood  looking  up,  with  a  most  per- 
plexed visage,  at  the  windows  of  the  patriarch's  apart- 
ments. 

"  Don't  ask  me  ;  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  it.  Why 
does  not  his  holiness  come  out  and  speak  to  them  ? 
Blessed  Virgin,  mother  of  God !  that  we  were  well 
through  it  all ! " 

"  Coward  !  "  bawled  a  monk  in  his  ear.  "  These 
shopkeepers  care  for  nothing  but  seeing  their  stalls  safe. 


196 


HYPATIA. 


Rather  tlian  lose  a  day's  custom,  tlicy  would  give  the 
very  churches  to  be  plundered  by  the  heathen  !  " 

"  We  do  not  want  them  !  "  cried  another.  "  We 
managed  Dioscuros  and  his  brother,  and  we  can  man- 
age Orestes.  What  matter  what  answer  he  sends. 
The  Devil  shall  have  his  own  !  " 

"  They  ought  to  have  been  back  two  hours  ago  ;  they 
are  murdered  by  this  time." 

"  He  would  not  dare  to  touch  the  archdeacon!-*' 

"  He  will  dare  any  thing.  Cyril  should  never  have 
sent  them  forth  as  lambs  among  wolves.  What  neces- 
sity was  there  for  letting  the  prefect  know  that  the  Jews 
were  gone  ?  He  would  have  found  it  out  for  himself 
fast  enough,  the  next  time  he  wanted  to  borrow  mon- 
ey !  " 

"  What  is  all  this  about,  reverend  sir  ?  "  asked  Phi- 
lammon  of  Peter  the  Reader,  who  made  his  appearance 
at  that  moment  in  the  quadrangle,  walking  with  great 
strides,  like  the  soul  of  Agamemnon  across  the  meads  of 
Asphodel,  and  apparently  beside  himself  with  rage. 

"  Ah  !  you  here  ?  You  may  go  to-morrow,  young 
fool  !  The  patriarch  can't  talk  to  you.  Why  should 
he  ?  Some  people  have  a  great  deal  too-  much  notice 
taken  of  them,  in  my  opinion.  Yes  ;  you  may  go.  If 
your  head  is  not  turned  already,  you  may  go  and  get  it 
turned  to-morrow.  We  shall  sec  whether  he  who  ex- 
alts himself  is  not  abased,  before  all  is  over!"  And 
he  was  striding  away,  when  Philammon,  at  the  risk  of 
an  explosion,  stopped  him. 

"  His  holiness  commanded  me  to  see  him,  sir,  be- 
fore   " 


Peter  turned  on  him    in  a  fury.     "  Fool !    wil 


you 


THE    SNAPPING    OF    THE    BOW.  197 

dare  to  intrude  your  fantastical  dreams  on  him  at  such 
a  moment  as  this  ?  " 

"He  commanded  me  to  see  him,"  said  Philammon, . 
with  the  .true  soldier-hke  discipline  of  a  monk  ;  "  and 
see  him  I  will,  in   spite  of  any  man.     I  believe  in  my 
heart  you  wish  to  keep  me  from   his  counsels  and   his 
blessing." 

Peter  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  with  a  right  wicked 
expression,  and  then,  to  the  youth's  astonishment,  struck 
him  full  in  the  face,  and  yelled  for  help. 

If  the  blow  had  been  given  by  Pambo  in  the  Laura 
a  week  before,  Philammon  would  have  borne  it.  But 
from  that  man,  and  coming  unexpectedly,  as  the  finish- 
ing stroke  to  all  his  disappointment  and  disgust,  it  was 
intolerable  ;  and  in  an  instant  Peter's  long  legs  were 
sprawling  on  the  pavement,  while  he  bellowed  like  a 
bull  for  all  the  monks  of  Nitria. 

A  dozen  lean,  brown  hands  were  at  Philammon's 
throat  as  Peter  rose. 

"  Seize  him  !  hold  him  !  "  half  blubbered  he.  "  The 
traitor  !  the  heretic  !  He  holds  communion  with  hea- 
thens !  " 

"  Down  with  him  !  "  "  Cast  him  out !  "  "  Carry  him 
to  the  archbishop  !  "  while  Philammon  shook  himself 
free,  and  Peter  returned  to  the  charge. 

"  I  call  all  good  Catholics  to  witness  !  He  has  beaten 
an  ecclesiastic  in  the  courts  of  the  Lord's  house,  even 
in  the  midst  of  thee,  O  Jerusalem  !  And  he  was  in 
Hypatia's  lecture-room  this  morning  !  " 

A  groan  of  pious  horror  rose.  Philammon  set  his 
back  against  the  wall. 

"  His  holiness  the  patriarch  sent  me." 

"  He  confesses,  he  confesses !     He  deluded  the  piety 


198  HYPATIA. 

of  the  patriarch  into  letting  liim  go,  under  color  of  con- 
verting her  ;  and  even  now  lie  wants  to  intrude  on  the 
sacred  presence  of  Cyril,  burning  only  with  carnal  de- 
sire that  he  nnay  meet  the  sorceress  in  her  house  to- 
morrow !  " 

"  Scandal  {  "  "  Abomination  in  the  holy  place  !  " 
and  a  rush  at  the  poor  youth  took  place. 

His  blood  was  thoroughly  up.  The  respectable  part 
of  the  crowd,  as  usual  in  such  cases,  prudently  retreat- 
ed, and  left  him  to  the  mercy  of  the  monks,  with  an  eye 
to  their  own  reputation  for  orthodoxy,  not  to  mention 
their  own  personal  safety  ;  and  he  had  to  help  himself 
as  he  could.  He  looked  round  for  a  weapon.  There 
was  none.  The  wng  of  monks  were  baying  at  him  like 
hounds  round  a  bear  ;  and  though  he  might  have  been 
a  match  for  any  one  of  them  singly,  yet  their  sinewy 
limbs  and  determined  faces  warned  him  that  ajiainst 
such  odds  the  struggle  would  be  desperate. 

"  Let  me  leave  this  court  in  safety  !  God  knows 
whether  I  am  an  heretic  ;  and  to  Him  I  commit  my 
cause.  The  holy  patriarch  shall  know  of  your  iniquity. 
I  will  not  trouble  you  ;  I  give  you  leave  to  call  me  her- 
etic,  or  heathen,  if  you  will,  if  I  cross  this  threshold  till 
Cyril  himself  sends  for  me  back  to  shame  you." 

And  he  turned  and  forced  his  way  to  the  gate,  amid 
a  yell  of  derision  which  brought  every  drop  of  blood  in 
his  body  into  his  cheeks.  Twice,  as  he  went  down  the 
vaulted  passage,  a  rush  was  made  on  him  from  behind, 
but  the  soberer  of  his  persecutors  checked  it.  Yet  he 
could  not  leave  them,  young  and  hot-headed  as  he  was, 
without  one  last  word,  and  on  the  threshold  he  turned. 

"  You  !  who  call  yourselves  the  disciples  of  the  Lord, 
and  are  more  like  the  demoniacs  who  abode  day  and 


THE    SNAPPING    OF    THE    BOW.  199 

night  in  the  tombs,  cr;dpg  and  cutting  themselves  with 

stones " 

In  an  instant  they  rushed  upon  him  ;  and,  luckily  for 
him,  rushed  also  into  the  arms  of  a  party  of  ecclesias- 
tics, who  were  hurrying  inwards  from  the  street,  with 
faces  of  blank  terror. 

"  He  has  refused  !  "  shouted  the  foremost.  "  He 
declares  war  against  the  Church  of  God  !  " 

"  O  my  friends  !  "  panted  the  archdeacon,  "  we  are 
escaped  like  the  bird  out  of  the  snare  of  the  fowler. 
The  tyrant  kept  us  waiting  two  hours  at  his  palace 
gates,  and  then  sent  lictors  out  upon  us,  with  rods  and 
axes,  telling  us  that  they  were  the  only  message  which 
he  had  for  robbers  and  rioters." 

"  Back  to  the  patriarch  ! "  And  the  whole  mob 
streamed   in   again,   leaving    Philammon  alone   in   the 

street and  in  the  world. 

Whither  now  ? 

He  strode  on  in  his  wrath  some  hundred  yards  or 
more,  before  he  asked  himself  that  question.  And 
when  he  asked  it,  he  found  himself  in  no  humor  to  an- 
swer it.  He  was  adrift,  and  blown  out  of  harbor  upon 
a  shoreless  sea,  in  utter  darkness  ;  all  heaven  and  earth 
were  nothing  to  him.  He  was  alone  in  the  blindness  of 
anger. 

Gradually  one  fixed  idea,  as  a  light-tower,  began  to 

glimmer  through  the  storm To  see  Hypatia,  and 

convert  her.  He  had  the  patriarch's  leave  for  that. 
That  must  be  right.  That  would  justify  him,  —  bring 
him  back,  perhaps,  in  a  triumph  more  glorious  than  any 
Csesar's,  leading  captive,  in  the  fetters  of  the  Gospel, 
the  Queen  of  Heathendom.  Yes,  there  was  that  left, 
for  which  to  live. 


200  HYPATIA. 

His  passion  cooled  down   gradually  as  he  wandered 
on  in  the  fading  evening  liglit,  up  one  street  and   down 
another,  till  he  had  utterly  lost  his  way.     What  matter? 
He  should  find  that  Lecture-room  to-morrow,  at  least. 
At   last  he   found   himself  in  a  broad  avenue  which  he 
seemed  to  know.     Was   that  the  Sun-gate  in  the  dis- 
tance ?     He  sauntered  carelessly  down   it,  and    found 
himself  at  last  on  the  great  Esplanade,  whither  the  little 
porter  had  taken  him  three  days  before.     He  was  close 
then  to  the   Museum,  and   to  her  house.     Destiny  had 
led  him,  unconsciously,  towards  the  scene  of  his  enter- 
prise.    It  was  a  good   omen  ;   he  would   go  thitho4-  at 
once.     He  might  sleep  upon  her  doorstep  as  well  as 
upon  any  other.     Perhaps  he  might  catch  a  glimpse  of 
her  going  out  or  coming  in,  even  at  that  late  hour.     It 
might  be  well  to  accustom  himself  to  the  sight  of  her. 
There  would  be  the  less  chance  of  his   being  abashed 
to-morrow  before  these  sorceress  eyes.     And,  moreover, 
to  tell   the  truth,  his  self-dependence,  and  his  self-will 
too,  crushed,  or  rather  laid   to  sleep,  by  the  discipline 
of  the  Laura,  had  started  into  wild  life,  and  gave  liim  a 
mysterious  pleasure  which  he  had  not  felt  since  he  was 
a  disobedient   little   boy,  of  doing  what  he  chose,  right 
or  wrong,  simply  because  he  chose  it.     Such  moments 
come   to  every  free-willed  creature.     Happy  are  those 
who  have  not,  like  poor  Philammon,  been  kept  by  a  hot- 
bed cultivation  from  knowing  how  to  face  them.     But 
he  had  yet  to  learn,  or  rather  his  tutors  had   to  learn, 
that  the  sure   path  toward  willing  obedience  and  man- 
ful self-restraint  lies  not  through  slavery,  but  through 
liberty. 

He  was  not  certain  which  was  Hypatia's  house  ;  but 
the  door  of  the  Museum  he  could  not  forget.     So  there 


THE    SNAPPING    OF    THE    BOW.  ^01 

he  sat  himself  down  under  the  garden  wall,  soothed 
by  the  cool  night,  and  the  holy  silence,  and  the  rich 
perfume  of  the  thousand  foreign  flowers  which  filled  the 
air  with  enervating  balm.  There  he  sat,  and  watched, 
and  watched,  and  watched  in  vain  for  some  glimpse  of 
his  one  object.  Which  of  the  houses  was  hers  ?  Which 
was  the  window  of  her  chamber  ?  Did  it  look  into  the 
street  ?  What  business  had  his  fancy  with  women's 
chambers  ?  .  .  .  .  But  that  one  open  window,  with  the 
lamp  burning  brightly  inside,  —  he  could  not  help  look- 
ing up  to  it,  —  he  could  not  help  fancying,  —  hoping. 
He  even  moved  a  few  yards,  to  see  better  the  bright  in- 
terior of  the  room.  High  up  as  it  was,  he  could  still 
discern  shelves  of  books,  —  pictures  on  the  walls.  Was 
that  a  voice  ?  Yes  I  —  a  woman's  voice  —  reading 
aloud  in  metre  —  was  plainly  distinguishable  in  the 
dead  stillness  of  the  night,  which  did  not  even  awaken  a 
whisper  in  the  trees  above  his  head.  He  stood,  spell- 
bound by  curiosity. 

Suddenly  the  voice  ceased,  and  a  woman's  figure 
came  forward  to  the  window,  and  stood  motionless,  gaz- 
ing upward  at  the  spangled  star-world  overhead,  and 
seeming  to  drink  in  the  glory,  and  the  silence,  and  the 

rich  perfume Could  it  be  she  ?     Every  pulse  in 

his  body  throbbed  madly Could  it  be  ?     What 

was  she  doing  .?  He  could  not  distinguish  the  features  ; 
but  the  full  blaze  of  the  eastern  moon  showed  him  an 
upturned  brow,  between  a  golden  stream  of  glittering 
tresses   which   hid   her  whole   figure,  except  the  white 

hands  clasped  upon  her  bosom Was  she  praying  ? 

were  these  her  midnight  sorceries  ?  .  .  .  . 

And  still  his  heart  throbbed  and  throbbed,  till  he  al- 
most fancied  she  must  hear  its  noisy  beat,  —  and  still 

VOL.   I.  14  ^ 


202    *  HYPATIA. 

she  stood  motionless,  gazing  upon  the  sky,  like  some 
exquisite  chryselephantine  statue,  all  ivory  and  gold. 
And  behind  her,  round  the  bright  room  within,  painting, 
books,  a  whole  world  of  unknown  science  and  beauty 

.     ,  .  .  and  she  the  priestess  of  it  all inviting  him 

to  learn  of  her  and  be  wise  ?  It  was  a  temptation  !  He 
would  flee  from  it !  —  Fool  that  he  was  !  and  it  might 
not  be  she,  after  all ! 

He  made  some  sudden  movement.  She  looked 
down,  saw  him,  and  shutting  the  blind,  vanished  for  the 
night.  In  vain,  now  that  the  temptation  had  departed,  he 
sat  and  waited  for  its  reappearance,  half  cursing  himself 
for  having  broken  the  spell.  But  the  chamber  was  dark 
and  silent  henceforth  ;  and  Philammon,  wearied  out, 
found  himself  soon  wandering  back  to  the  Laura  in 
quiet  dreams,  beneath  the  balmy  semi-tropic  night. 


203 


CHAPTER    X. 


THE    INTERVIEW. 


Philammon  was  aroused  from  his  slumbers  at  sunrise 
the  next  morning  by  the  attendants  who  came  in  to 
sweep  out  the  lecture-rooms,  and  wandered,  disconso- 
lately enough,  up  and  down  the  street ;  longing  for,  and 
yet  dreading,  the  three  weary  hours  to  be  over  which 
must  pass  before  he  would  be  admitted  to  Hypatia.  But 
he  had  tasted  no  food  since  noon  the  day  before  :  he 
had  had  but  three  hours'  sleep  the  previous  night,  and 
had  been  working,  running,  and  fighting  for  two  whole 
days  without  a  moment's  peace  of  body  or  mind.  Sick 
with  hunger  and  fatigue,  and  aching  from  head  to  foot 
with  his  hard  night's  rest  on  the  granite  flags,  he  felt  as 
unable  as  man  could  well  do  to  collect  his  thoughts  or 
brace  his  nerves  for  the  coming  interview.  How  to  get 
food  he  could  not  guess  :  but  having  two  hands,  he 
might  at  least  earn  a  coin  by  carrying  a  load  ;  so  he 
went  down  to  the  Esplanade  in  search  of  work.  Of 
that,  alas,  there  was  none.  So  he  sat  down  upon  the 
parapet  of  the  quay,  and  watched  the  shoals  of  sardines 
which  played  in  and  out  over  the  marble  steps  below, 
and  wondered  at  the  strange  crabs  and  sea-locusts  which 


204  BYPATIA. 

crawled  up  and  down  the  face  of  the  masonry,  a  few 
feet  below  the  surface,  scrambling  for  bits  of  offal,  and 
making  occasional  fruitless  dashes  at  the  nimble  little 
silver  arrows  which  played  round  them.  And  at  last 
his  whole  soul,  too  tired  to  think  of  any  thing  else,  be- 
came absorbed  in  a  mighty  struggle  between  two  great 
crabs,  who  held  on  stoutly,  each  by  a  claw,  to  his  re- 
spective bunch  of  seaweed,  while  with  the  others  they 
tugged,  one  at  the  head  and  the  other  at  the  tail,  of  a 
dead  fish.  Which  would  conquer  .?....  Ay,  which  ? 
And  for  five  minutes  Philammon  was  alone  in  the  world 

with  the  two  struggling  heroes Might  not  they  be 

emblematic  ?  Might  not  the  upper  one  typify  Cyril  ?  — 
the  lower  one  Hypatia  ?  —  and  the  dead  fish  between, 
himself.?  ....  But  at  last  the  dead-lock  was  suddenly 
ended,  —  the  fish  parted  in  the  middle,  and  the  typical 
Hypatia  and  Cyril,  losing  hold  of  their  respective  sea- 
weeds by  the  jerk,  tumbled  down,  each  with  its  half 
fish,  and  vanished  head  over  iieels  into  the  blue  depths, 
in  so  undignified  a  manner  that  Philammon  burst  into  a 
shout  of  laughter. 

"  What 's  the  joke  ?  "  asked  a  well-known  voice  be- 
hind him  ;  and  a  hand  patted  him  familiarly  on  the 
back.  He  looked  round,  and  saw  the  little  porter,  his 
head  crowned  with  a  full  basket  of  figs,  grapes,  and 
water-melons,  on  which  the  poor  youth  cast  a  longing 
eye.  "  Well,  my  young  friend,  and  why  are  you  not 
at  church  ?  Look  at  all  tlie  saints  pouring  into  the  Cse- 
sareum  there,  behind  you." 

Philammon  answered  sulkily  enough  something  inar- 
ticulate. 

"  Ho,  ho !  Quarrelled  with  the  successor  of  the 
Apostles  already  ?     Has  my  prophecy  come  true,  and 


THE    INTERVIEW.  205 

the  strong  meat  of  pious  riot  and-  plunder  proved  too 
highly  spiced  for  your  young  palate.     Eh  ?  " 

Poor  Philammon !  Angry  with  himself  for  feeling 
that  the  porter  was  right ;  shrinking  from  the  notion  of 
exposing  the  failings  of  his  fellow-Christians  ;  shrinking 
still  more  from  making  such  a  jackanapes  his  confi- 
dant :  and  yet  yearning  in  his  loneliness  to  open  his 
heart  to  some  one,  he  dropped  out  hint  by  hint,  word 
by  word,  the  events  of  the  past  evening  ;  and  finished 
by  a  request  to  be  put  in  the  way  of  earning  his  break- 
fast. 

"  Earning  your  breakfast  ?  Shall  the  favorite  of  the 
gods  —  shall  the  guest  of  Hypatia  earn  his  breakfast, 
while  I  have  an  obol  to  share  with  him  ?  Base  thought ! 
Youth  !  I  have  wronged  you.  Unphilosophically  I  al- 
lowed, yesterday  morning,  envy  to  rufiie  the  ocean  of 
my  intellect.  We  are  now  friends  and  brothers,  in 
hatred  to  the  monastic  tribe." 

"  I  do  not  hate  them,  I  tell  you,"  said  Philammon. 
"  But  these  Nitrian  savages " 

"  Are  the  perfect  examples  of  monkery,  and  you 
hate  them ;  and  therefore,  all  greaters  containing  the 
less,  you  hate  all  less  monastic  monks, — I  have  not 
heard  logic  lectures  in  vain.  Now,  up  !  The  sea 
woos  our  dusty  limbs  ;  Nereids  and  Tritons,  charging 
no  cruel  coin,  call  us  to  Nature's  baths.  At  home  a 
mighty  sheat-fish  smokes  upon  the  festive  board  ;  beer 
crowns  the  horn,  and  onions  deck  the  dish  :  come  then, 
my  guest  and  brother  !  " 

Philammon  swallowed  certain  scruples  about  becom- 
ing the  guest  of  a  heathen,  seeing  that  otherwise  there 
seemed  no  chance  of  having  any  thing  else  to  swallow ; 


20G  HYPATIA. 

and,  after  a  refreshing  plunge  in  the  sea,  followed  ilio 
hospitable  little  fellow  to  Hypatia's  door,  where  he 
dropped  his  daily  load  of  fruit,  and  then  into  a  narrow 
by-street,  to  the  ground-floor  of  a  huge  block  of  lodg- 
ings, with  a  common  staircase,  swarming  with  children, 
cats,  and  chickens ;  and  was  ushered  by  his  host  into  a 
little  room,  where  the  savory  smell  of  broiling  fish 
revived  Philammon's  heart. 

"Judith!  Judith!  where  lingercst  thou?  Marble  of 
Pentelicus  !  Foam-flake  of  the  wine-dark  main  I  Lily 
of  the  Mareotic  lake  !  You  accursed  black  Androm- 
eda, if  you  don't  bring  the  breakfast  this  moment, 
I  '11  cut  you  in  two  ! " 

The  inner  door  opened,  and  in  bustled,  trembling, 
her  hands  full  of  dishes,  a  tall,  lithe  negress,  dressed  in 
true  negro  fashion,  in  a  snow-white  cotton  shift,  a  scar- 
let cotton  petticoat,  and  a  bright  yellow  turban  of  the 
same,  making  a  light  in  that  dark  place  which  would 
have  served  as  a  landmark  a  mile  ofT.  She  put  the 
dishes  down,  and  the  porter  majestically  waved  Philam- 
mon  to  a  stool,  while  she  retreated,  and  stood  humbly 
waitincr  on  her  lord  and  master,  who  did  not  deign  to 
introduce  to  ^his  guest  the  black  beauty  which  com- 
posed his  whole  seraglio But,  indeed,  such  an  act 

of  courtesy  would  have  been  needless,  for  the  first 
morsel  of  fish  was  hardly  safe  in  poor  Philammon's 
mouth,  when  the  negress  rushed  upon  him,  caught  him 
by  the  head,  and  covered  him  with  rapturous  kisses. 

Up, jumped  the  little  man  with  a  yell,  brandishing  a 
knife  in  one  hand  and  a  leek  in  the  other,  while  Phi- 
lammon,  scarcely  less  scandalized,  jumped  up  too,  and 
shook  himself  free  of  the  lady,  who,  finding  it  impossi- 


THE    INTERVIEW.  207 

ble  to  vent  her  feelings  further  on  his  head,  instantly 
changed  her  tactics,  and  wallowing  on  the  floor,  began 
franticly  kissing  his  feet. 

"  What  is  this  ?  Before  my  face  !  Up,  shameless 
baggage,  or  thou  diest  the  death  !  "  and  the  porter 
pulled  her  up  upon  her  knees. 

"  It  is  the  monk !  the  young  man  I  told  you  of,  who 
saved  me  from  the  Jews  the  other  night !  What  good 
angel  sent  him  here  that  I  might  thank  him  ?  "  cried 
the  poor  creature,  while  the  tears  ran  down  her  black, 
shining  face. 

"  I  am  that  good  angel,"  said  the  porter,  with  a  look 
of  intense  self-satisfaction.  "  Rise,  daughter  of  Ere- 
bus ;  thou  art  pardoned,  being  but  a  female.  What 
says  the  poet  .'' 

'  Woman  is  passion's  slave,  while  rightful  lord 
O'er  her  and  passion,  rules  the  nobler  male.' 

Youth  !  to  my  arms  !  Truly  say  the  philosophers, 
that  the  universe  is  magical  in  itself,  and  by  mysterious 
sympathies  links  like  to  like.  The  prophetic  instinct 
of  thy  future  benefits  towards  me  drew  me  to  thee  as 
by  an  invisible  warp,  hawser,  or  chain-cable,  from  the 
moment  I  beheld  thee.  Thou  wert  a  kindred  spirit, 
my  brother,  though  thou  knewest  it  not.  Therefore  I 
do  not  praise  thee,  —  no,  nor  thank  thee  in  the  least, 
though  thou  hast  Preserved  for  me  the  one  palm  which 
shadows  my  weany  steps,  —  the  single  lotus-flower  (in 
this  case  black,  not  white)  which  blooms  for  me  above 
the  mud-stained  qcean-wastes  of  the  Hylic  Borboros. 
That  which  thou  hhst  done,  thou  hast  done  by  instinct,  — 
by  divine  compulsion,  —  thou  couldst  no  more  help  it 


208  HYPATIA. 

than  thou  canst  help  eating  that  fish  ;  and  art  no  more 
to  be  praised  for  it." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Philammon. 

"  Comprehend  me.  Our  theory  in  the  schools  for 
such  cases  is  this,  —  has  been  so  at  least  for  the  last  six 
months,  —  similar  particles,  from  one  original  source, 
exist  in  you  and  me.  Similar  causes  produce  similar 
effects ;  our  attractions,  antipathies,  impulses,  are  there- 
fore, in  similar  circumstances,  absolutely  the  same ; 
and  therefore  you  did  tlie  other  night  —  exactly  what  I 
should  have  done  in  your  case." 

Philammon  thought  the  latter  part  of  the  theory  open 
to  question,  but  he  had  by  no  means  stopped  eating 
when  he  rose,  and  his  mouth  was  much  too  full  of  fish 
to  argue. 

"  And  therefore,"  continued  the  little  man,  "  we  are 
to  consider  ourselves  henceforth  as  one  soul  in  two 
bodies.  You  may  have  the  best  of  the  corporeal  part 
of  the  division  ....  yet  it  is  the  soul  which  makes 
the  person.  You  may  trust  me,  I  shall  not  disdain  my 
brotherhood.  If  any  one  insults  you  henceforth,  you 
have  but  to  call  for  me  ;  and,  if  I  be  within  hearing, 
why,  by  this  right  arm " 

And  he  attempted  a  pat  on  Philammon's  head,  which, 
as  there  was  a  head  and  shoulders  difference  between 
them,  might  on  the  whole  have  been  considered,  from 
a  theatric  point  of  view,  as  a  failure.  Whereon  the 
little  man  seized  the  calabash  of  beer,  and  filling  there- 
with a  cow's  horn,  his  thumb  on  the  small  end,  raised 
it  high  in  air. 

"  To  the  Tenth  Muse,  and  to  your  interview  with 
her!" 


THE    INTERVIEW.  209 

And  removing  his  thumb,  he  sent  a  steady  jet  into 
his  open  mouth,  and  having  drained  the  horn  without 
drawing  breath,  licked  his  lips,  handed  it  to  Philammon, 
and  flew  ravenously  upon  the  fish  and  onions. 

Philammon,  to  whom  the  whole  was  supremely  ab- 
surd, had  no  invocation  to  make,  but  one  which  he  felt 
too  sacred  for  his  present  temper  of  mind,  so  he  at- 
tempted to  imitate  the  little  man's  feat,  and,  of  course, 
poured  the  beer  into  his  eyes,  and  up  his  nose,  and  in 
his  bosom,  and  finally  choked  himself  black  in  the  face, 
while  his  host  observed,  smilingly,  — 

"  Aha  ?  rustic  ?  unacquainted  with  the  ancient  and 
classicai  customs  preserved  in  the  centre  of  civilization 
by  the  descendants  of  Alexander's  heroes  .''  Judith  ! 
clear  the  table.      Now  to  the  sanctuary  of  the  Muses  !  " 

Philammon  rose,  and  finished  his  meal  by  a  monkish 
grace.  A  gentle  and  reverend  "Amen"  rose  from 
the  other  end  of  the  room.  It  was  the  negress.  She 
saw  him  look  up  at  her,  dropped  her  eyes  modestly, 
and  bustled  away  with  the  remnants,  while  Philammon 
and  his  host  started  for  Hypatia's  lecture-room. 

"  Your  wife  is  a  Christian  ?  "  asked  he,  when  they 
were  outside  the  door. 

"  Ahem !  The  barbaric  mind  is  prone  to  super- 
stition. Yet  she  is,  being  but  a  woman  and  a  negress, 
a  good  soul,  and  thrifty,  though  requiring,  like  all  lower 
animals,  occasional  chastisement.  I  married  her  on 
philosophic  grounds.  A  wife  was  necessary  to  me,  for 
several  reasons :  but  mindful  that  the  philosopher  should 
subjugate  the  material  appetite,  and  rise  above  the  swin- 
ish desires  of  the  flesh,  even  when  his  nature  requires 
him  to  satisfy  them,  I  purposed  to  make  pleasure  as  un- 
pleasant as  possible.     I  had  the  choice  of  several  crip- 


210 


HYPATIA. 


pies,  —  their  parents,  of  ancient  Macedonian  family,  like 
myself,  were  by  no  means  adverse  ;  but  I  required  a 
housekeeper,  with  whose  duties  the  want  of  an  arm  or 
a  leg  might  have  interfered." 

"  Why  did  you  not  marry  a  scold  ? "  asked  Philam- 
mon. 

"Pertinently  observed.  And,  indeed,  the  example 
of  Socrates  rose  luminous  more  than  once  before  my 
imagination.  But  philosophic  calm,  my  dear  youth,  and 
the  peaceful  contemplation  of  the  ineffable  ?  I  could 
not  relinquish  these  luxuries.  So  having,  by  the  bounty 
of  Hypatia  and  her  pupils,  saved  a  small  sum,  I  went 
out,  bought  me  a  negress,  and  hired  six  rooms  in  the 
block  we  have  just  left,  where  I  let  lodgings  to  young 
students  of  the  Divine  Philosophy." 

"  Have  you  any  lodgers  now  ?  " 

"  Ahem  !  Certain  rooms  are  occupied  by  a  lady  of 
rank.     The  philosopher  will,  above  all  things,  abstain 

from  babbling,     fo  bridle  the  tongue,  is  to .     But 

there  is  a  closet  at  your  service  ;  and  for  the  hall  of 
reception,  which  you  have  just  left,  —  are  you  not  a 
kindred  and  fraternal  spark  ?  We  can  combine  our 
meals,  as  our  souls  are  already  united." 

Philammon  thanked  him  heartily  for  the  offer,  though 
he  shrank  from  accepting  it ;  and  in  ten  minutes  more 
found  himself  at  the  door  of  the  very  house  which  he 
had  been  watching  the  night  before.  It  was  she,  then, 
whom  he  had  seen !  .  .  .  .  He  was  handed  over  by  a 
black  porter  to  a  smart  slave-girl,  who  guided  him  up 
through  cloisters  and  corridors  to  the  large  library, 
where  five  or  six  young  men  were  sitting,  busily  en- 
gaged, under  Theon's  superintendence,  in  copying 
manuscripts  and  drawing  geometric  diagrams. 


THE    INTERVIEW.  '    211 

Philammon  gazed  curiously  at  these  symbols  of  a 
science  unknown  to  him,  and  wondered  whether  the 
day  would  ever  come  when  he  too  would  understand 
their  mysteries  ;  but  his  eyes  fell  again  as  he  saw  the 
youths  staring  at  his  ragged  sheep-skin  and  matted  locks 
with  undisguised  contempt.  He  could  hardly  collect 
himself  enough  to  obey  the  summons  of  the  venerable 
old  man,  as  he  beckoned  him  silently  out  of  the  room, 
and  led  him,  with  the  titters  of  the  young  students  ring- 
ing in  his  ears,  through  the  door  by  which  he  had 
entered,   and    along   a   gallery,   till    he   stopped    and 

knocked  humbly  at  a  door She  must  be  within ! 

Now  ! At  last ! His  knees  knocked 

together  under  him.     His  heart   sank   and   sank   into 

abysses.      Poor   wretch ! He   was    half-mmded 

once  to  escape  and  dash  into  the  street but  was 

it  not  his  one  hope,  his  one  object  ? But  why  did 

not  that  old  man  speak.?     If  he  would  but  have  said 

something If  he  would  have  only  looked  cross, 

contemptuous But   with    the  same   impressive 

gravity  as  of  a  man  upon  a  business  in  which  he  had 
no  voice,  and  wished  it  to  be  understood  that  he  had 
none,  the  old  man  silently  opened  the  door,  and  Phi- 
lammon   followed There    she    was  !     Looking 

more  glorious  than  ever ;  more  than  when  glowing  with 
the  enthusiasm  of  her  own  eloquence  ;  more  than  when 
transfigured  last  night  in  golden  tresses  and  glittering 
moonbeams.  There  she  sat,  without  moving  a  finger, 
as  the  two  entered.  She  greeted  her  father  with  a 
smile,  which  made  up  for  all  her  seeming  want  of 
courtesy  to  him,  and  then  fixed  her  large  gray  eyes 
full  on  Philammon. 

"  Here  is  the  youth,  my  daughter.     It  was  your  wish, 


212  HYPATIA. 

you    know ;    and    I    always   believe   that    you    know 
best " 

Another  smile  put  an  end  to  the  speech,  and  the  old 
man  retreated  humbly  toward  another  door,  with  a 
somewhat  anxious  visage,  and  then  lingering  and  look- 
ing back,  his  hand  upon  the  latch, — 

"  if  you  require  any  one,  you  know,  you  have  only 
to  call,  —  we  shall  be  all  in  the  library." 

Another  smile  ;  and  the  old  man  disappeared,  leav- 
ing the  two  alone. 

Philammon  stood  trembling,  choking,  his  eyes  fixed 
on  the  floor.  Where  were  all  the  fine  things  he  had 
conned  over  for  the  occasion  ?  He  dared  not  look  up 
at  that  face,  lest  it  should  drive  them  out  of  his  head. 
And  yet  the  more  he  kept  his  eyes  turned  from  the  face, 
the  more  he  was  conscious  of  it,  conscious  that  it  was 
watching  him  ;  and  the  more  all  the  fine  words  were, 

by  that  very  knowledge,  driven  out  of  his  head 

When  would  she  speak  ?  Perhaps  she  wished  him  to 
speak  first.  It  was  her  duty  to  begin  ;  for  she  had  sent 
for  him But  still  she  kept  silence,  and  sat  scan- 
ning him  intently  from  head  to  foot,  herself  as  motion- 
less as  a  statue  ;  her  hands  folded  together  before  her, 
over  the  manuscript  which  lay  upon  her  knee.  If 
there  was  a  blush  on  her  cheek  at  her  own  daring,  his 
eyes  swam  too  much  to  notice  it. 

When  would  the  intolerable  suspense  end  ?  She 
was,  perhaps,  as  unwilling  to  speak  as  he.  But  some 
one  must  strike  the  first  blow  ;  and,  as  often  happens,  the 
weaker  party,  impelled  by  sheer  fear,  struck  it,  and  broke 
the  silence  in  a  tone  half  indignant,  half  apologetic  :  — 

"  You  sent  for  me  hither  !  " 

"  I  did.     It  seemed  to  me,  as  I  watched  you  during 


THE    INTERVIEW,  213 

my  lecture,  both  before  and  after  you  were  rude  enough 
to  interrupt  me,  that  your  offence  was  one  of  mere 
youthful  ignorance.  It  seemed  to  me  that  your  coun- 
tenance bespoke  a  nobler  nature  than  that  which  the 
gods  are  usually  pleased  to  bestow  upon  monks.  That 
I  may  now  ascertain  whether  or  not  my  surmises  were 
correct,  I  ask  you  for  what  purpose  are  you  come 
hither  ?  " 

Philammon  hailed  the  question  as  a  godsend.  Now 
for  his  message  !  And  yet  he  faltered,  as  he  answered 
with  a  desperate  effort,  —  "  To  rebuke  you  for  your 
sins." 

"  My  sins  ?  What  sins  ?  "  she  asked,  as  she  looked 
up  with  a  stately,  slow  surprise  in  those  large  gray 
eyes,  before  which  his  own  glance  sank  abashed,  he 
knew  not  why.  What  sins  ?  —  He  knew  not.  Did 
she  look  like  a  Messalina  ?  But  was  she  not  a  heathen 
and  a  sorceress.^  —  and  yet  he  blushed,  and  stam- 
mered, and  hung  down  his  head,  as,  shrinking  at  the 
sound  of  his  own  words,  he  replied,  — 

"  The  foul  sorceries  —  and  profligacy  worse  than 
sorceries,  in  which  they  say  "  —  He  could  get  no  far- 
ther :  for  he  looked  up  again  and  saw  an  awful  quiet 
smile  upon  that  face.  His  words  had  raised  no  blush 
upon  the  marble  cheek. 

"  They  say  !  The  bigots  and  slanderers  ;  wild  beasts 
of  the  desert,  and  fanatic  intriguers,  who,  in  the  words 
of  Him  they  call  their  master,  compass  heaven  and 
earth  to  make  one  proselyte,  and  when  they  have  found 
him,  make  him  twofold  more  the  child  of  hell  than 
themselves.  Go, — I  forgive  you, — you  are  young, 
and  know  not  yet  the  mystery  of  the  world.  Science 
will  teach  you  some  day  that  the  outward  frame  is  the 


214  HYPATIA. 

sacrament  of  the  soul's  inward  beauty.  Such  a  soul  I 
had  fancied  your  face  expressed  ;  but  I  was  mistaken. 
Foul  hearts  alone  harbor  such  foul  suspicions,  and 
fancy  otliers  to  be,  what  they  know  they  might  become 
themselves.  Go  !  Do  I  look  like —  ?  The  very  taper- 
ing of  these  fingers,  if  thou  couldst  read  their  symbolism, 
would  give  your  dream  the  lie."  And  she  flashed  full 
on  him,  like  sun-rays  from  a  mirror,  the  full  radiance 
of  her  glorious  countenance. 

Alas,  poor  Philammon  !  where  were  thy  eloquent 
arguments,  thy  orthodox  theories  then  ?  Proudly  he 
struggled  with  his  own  man's  heart  of  flesh,  and  tried 
to  turn  his  eyes  away  :  tlie  magnet  might  as  well  strug- 
gle to  escape  from  the  spell  of  the  north.  In  a  moment, 
he  knew  not  how,  utter  shame,  remorse,  longing  for 
forgiveness,  swept  over  him,  and  crushed  him  down  ; 
and  he  found  himself  on  his  knees  before  her,  in  abject 
and  broken  syllables  entreating  pardon. 

"  Go,  —  I  forgive  you.  But  know  before  you  go, 
that  the  celestial  milk  which  fell  from  Here's  bosom* 
bleaching  the  plant  which  it  touched  to  everlasting 
whiteness,  was  not  more  taintless  than  the  soul  of  The- 
on's  daughter." 

He  looked  up  in  her  face  as  he  knelt  before  her. 
Unerring  instinct  told  him  that  her  words  were  true. 
He  was  a  monk,  —  accustomed  to  believe  animal  sin  to 
be  the  deadliest  and  worst  of  all  sins,  —  indeed,  "  the 
great  oflence  "  itself,  beside  which  all  others  were  com- 
paratively venial  :  where  there  was  physical  purity 
u)ust  not  all  other  virtues  follow  in  its  wake  ?  All  other 
failings  were  invisible  under  the  dazzling  veil  of  that 
great  loveliness,  —  and  in  his  self-abasement  he  went 
on,  — 


THE    INTERVIEW.  215 

"  0,  do  not  spurn  me  !  Do  not  drive  me  away  ! 
I  have  neither  friend,  home,  nor  teacher.  I  fled  last 
night  from  the  men  of  my  own  faith,  maddened  by  bitter 
insult  and  injustice,  —  disappointed  and  disgusted  with 
their  ferocity,  narrowness,  ignorance.  I  dare  not,  I  can- 
not, I  will  not,  return  to  the  obscurity  and  the  dulness  of 
a  Thebaid  Laura.  I  have  a  thousand  doubts  to  solve, 
a  thousand  questions  to  ask,  about  that  great  ancient 
world  of  which  I  know  nothing,  —  of  whose  mysteries, 
they  say,  you  alone  possess  the  key  !  I  am  a  Chris- 
tian ;  but  I  thirst  for  knowledge I  do  not  promise 

to  believe  you,  —  I  do  not  promise  to  obey  you  ;  but  let 
me  hear  !  Teach  me  what  you  know,  that  I  may  compare 
it  with  what  I  know If  indeed  "  (and  he  shud- 
dered as  he  spoke  the  words)  "  I  do  know  any  thing  !  " 

"  Have  you  forgotten  the  epithets  which  you  used  to 
me  just  now  .?  " 

"  No,  no  !  But  do  you  forget  them ;  they  were  put 
into  my  mouth.  I  —  I  did  not  believe  them  when  I  said 
them.  It  was  agony  to  me  ;  but  I  did  it,  as  I  thought, 
for  your  sake,  —  to  save  you.  O,  say  that  I  may  come 
and  hear  you  again  !  Only  from  a  distance,  —  in  the 
very  farthest  corner  of  your  lecture-room.  I  will  be 
silent ;  you  shall  never  see  me.  But  your  words  yester- 
day awoke  in  me  —  no,  not  doubts  ;  but  still  I  must,  I 
must  hear  more,  or  be  as  miserable  and  homeless  in- 
wardly as  I  am  in  my  outward  circumstances  !  "  And 
he  looked  up  imploringly  for  consent. 

"  Rise.  This  passion  and  that  attitude  are  fitting 
neither  for  you  nor  me." 

And  as  Philammon  rose,  she  rose  also,  went  into  the 
library  to  her  father,  and  in  a  few  minutes  returned 
with  him. 


216  HYPATIA. 

"  Come  with  me,  young  man,"  said    he,  laying  his 

hand    kindly   enough    on    Philammon's   shoulder 

"  The  rest  of  this  matter  you  and  I  can  settle  "  ;  and 
Philammon  followed  him,  not  daring  to  look  back  at 
Hypatiu,  while  the  whole  room  swam  before  his  eyes. 

"  So,  so  ;  I  hear  you  have  been  saying  rude  things 
to  my  daughter.     Well,  she  has  forgiven  you " 

"  Has  she  ?  "  asked  the  young  monk,  with  an  eager 
start. 

"  Ah  !  you  may  well  look  astonished.  But  I  forgive 
you,  too.  It  is  lucky  for  you,  however,  that  I  did  not 
hear  you,  or  else,  old  man  as  I  am,  I  can't  say  what  I 
might  not  have  done.  Ah,  you  little  know,  you  little 
know  what  she  is  !  "  —  and  the  old  pedant's  eyes  kindled 
with  loving  pride.  "  May  the  gods  give  you  some  day 
such  a  daughter  !  —  that  is,  if  you  learn  to  deserve  it, 
—  as  virtuous  as  she  is  wise,  as  wise  as  she  is  beautiful. 
Truly,  they  have  repaid  me  for  my  labors  in  their  ser- 
vice. Look,  young  man  !  little  as  you  merit  it,  here  is 
a  pledge  of  your  forgiveness,  such  as  the  richest  and 
noblest  in  Alexandria  are  glad  to  purchase  with  many 
an  ounce  of  gold,  —  a  ticket  of  free  admission  to  all  her 
lectures  henceforth  !  Now  go  ;  you  have  been  favored 
beyond  your  deserts,  and  should  learn  that  the  philos- 
opher can  practise  what  the  Christian  only  preaches, 
and  return  good  for  evil."  And  he  put  into  Philam- 
mon's hand  a  slip  of  paper,  and  bid  one  of  the  secreta- 
ries show  him  to  the  outer  door. 

The  youths  looked  up  at  him  from  their  writing  as  he 
passed,  with  faces  of  surprise  and  awe,  and  evidently 
thinking  no  more  about  the  absurdity  of  his  sheep-skin 
and  his  tanned  complexion  ;  and  he  went  out  with  a 
stunned,  confused  feeling,  as  of  one  who,  by  a  desperate 


THE    INTERVIEW. 


217 


leap,  has  plunged  into  a  new  world.  He  tried  to  feel 
content ;  but  he  dare  not.  All  before  him  was  anxiety, 
uncertainty.  He  had  cut  himself  adrift ;  he  was  on  the 
great  stream.  Whither  would  it  lead  him  ?  Well  — 
was  it  not  the  great  stream  ?  Had  not  all  mankind,  for 
all  the  ages,  been  floating  on  it  ?  Or,  was  it  but  a  des- 
ert river,  dwindling  away  beneath  the  fiery  sun,  des- 
tined to  lose  itself  a  few  miles  on,  among  the  arid  sands  ? 
Were  Arsenius  and  the  faith  of  his  childhood  right  ? 
And  was  the  Old  World  coming  speedily  to  its  death- 
throe,  and  the  kingdom  of  God  at  hand  ?  Or,  was  Cy- 
ril right,  and  the  Church  Catholic  appointed  to  spread, 
and  conquer,  and  destroy,  and  rebuild,  till  the  kingdoms 
of  this  world  had  become  the  kingdoms  of  God  and  of 
his  Christ .?  If  so  —  what  use  in  this  old  knowledge 
which  he  craved  ?  And  yet,  if  the  day  of  the  destruc- 
tion of  all  things  were  at  hand,  and  the  times  destined 
to  become  worse  and  not  better,  till  the  end,  —  how 
could  that  be  .?"...  . 

"  What  news  ?  "  asked  the  little  porter,  who  had  been 
waiting  for  him  at  the  door  all  the  while.  "  What  news, 
O  favorite  of  the  gods  !  " 

"  I  will  lodge  with  you,  and  labor  with  you.  Ask 
me  no  more  at  present.     I  am  —  I  am " 

"  Those  who  descended  into  the  cave  of  Trophonius, 
and  beheld  the  unspeakable,  remained  astonished  for 
three  days,  my  young  friend, —  and  so  will  you!" 
And  they  went  forth  together  to  earn  their  bread. 

But  what  is  Hypatia  doing  all  this  while,  upon  that 
cloudy  Olympus,  where  she  sits  enshrined  far  above  the 
noise  and  struggle  of  man  and  his  work-day  world  ? 

She  is  sitting  again,  with  her  manuscript  open  before 

VOL.   I.  15 


218  HYPATIA. 

her  :  but  she  is  thinking  of  the  young  monk,  not  of 
them. 

"  Beautiful  as  Antinous  !  .  .  .  .  Rather  as  the  young 
Phoebus  himself,  fresh  glowing  from  the  slaughter  of  the 
Python.  Why  should  not  he,  too,  become  a  slayer  of 
Pythons,  and  loathsome  monsters,  bred  from  the  mud  of 
sense  and  matter  ?  So  bold  and  earnest  1  —  I  can  for- 
give him  those  words  for  the  very  fact  of  his  having 
dared,  here  in  my  father's  house,  to  say  them  to  me. 
....  And  yet  so  tender,  so  open  to  repentance  and 
noble  shame  !  —  That  is  no  plebeian  by  birth  :  patrician 
blood  surely  flows  in  those  veins ;  it  shows  out  in  every 
attitude,  every  tone,  every  motion  of  the  hand  and  lip. 
He  cannot  be  one  of  the  herd.  Who  ever  knew  one  of 
them  crave  after  knowledge  for  its  own  sake  ?  .  .  .  . 
And  I  have  longed  so  for  one  real  pupil !  I  have  longed 
so  to  find  one  such  man,  among  the  effeminate,  selfish 
triflers  who  pretend  to  listen  to  me.  I  thought  I  had 
found  one,  —  and  the  moment  that  I  had  lost  him,  be- 
hold, I  find  another  ;  and  that  a  fresher,  purer,  simpler 
nature  than  ever  Ruphaers  was  at  its  best.  By  all  the 
laws  of  physiognomy,  by  all  the  symbolism  of  gesture 
and  voice,  and  complexion,  by  the  instinct  of  my  own 
heart,  that  young  monk  might  be  the  instrument,  the 
ready,  valiant,  obedient  instrument  for  carrying  out  all 
my  dreams.  If  1  could  but  train  him  into  a  Longinus,  I 
could  dare  to  play  the  part  of  a   Zenobia,  with   him  as 

counsellor And  for   my  Odenatus — Orestes? 

Horrible  ! " 

She  covered  her  face  with  her  hand  a  minute. 
"  No  !  "  she  said,  dashing  away  the  tears,  —  "  That  — 
and  any  thing  —  and  every  thing  for  the  cause  of  Phi- 
losophy and  the  gods  !  " 


219 


CHAPTER    XI 


THE    LATJKA    AGAIN. 


Not  a  sound,  nor  a  moving  object,  broke  the  utter 
stillness  of  the  glen  of  Scetis.  The  shadows  of  the 
crags,  though  paling  every  moment  before  the  spread- 
ing dawn,  still  shrouded  all  the  gorge  in  gloom.  A 
winding  line  of  haze  slept  above  the  course  of  the  rivu- 
let. The  plumes  of  the  palm-trees  hung  motionless,  as 
if  awaiting  in  resignation  the  breathless  blaze  of  the  ap- 
proaching day.  At  length,  among  the  green  ridges  of 
the  monastery  garden,  two  gray  figures  rose  from  their 
knees,  and  began,  with  slow  and  feeble  strokes,  to 
break  the  silence  by  the  clatter  of  their  hoes  among  the 
pebbles. 

"  These  beans  grow  wonderfully,  brother  Aufugus. 
We  shall  be  able  to  sow  our  second  crop,  by  God's 
blessing,  a  week  earlier  than  we  did  last  year." 

The  person  addressed  returned  no  answer  ;  and  his 
companion,  after  watching  him  for  some  time  in  silence, 
recommenced  :  — 

"  What  is  it,  my  brother  ?  I  have  remarked,  lately, 
a  melancholy  about  you,  which  is  hardly  fitting  for  a 
man  of  God." 


220  HYPATIA. 

A  deep  sigh  was  the  only  answer.  The  speaker  laid 
down  his  hoe,  and  placing  his  hand  affectionately  on  the 
shoulder  of  Aufugus,  asked  again  :  — 

"  What  is  it,  my  friend  ?  I  will  not  claim  with  you 
my  abbot's  right,  to  know  the  secrets  of  your  heart :  but 
surely  that  breast  hides  nothing  which  is  unworthy  to 
be  spoken  to  me,  however  unworthy  I  may  be  to  hear 
it." 

"  Why  should  I  not  be  sad,  Pambo,  my  friend  ? 
Does  not  Solomon  say  that  there  is  a  time  for  mourn- 
ing?" 

"  True  :  but  a  time  for  mirth  also." 

"  None  to  the  penitent,  burdened  with  the  guilt  of 
many  sins." 

"  Recollect  what  the  blessed  Anthony  used  to  say,  — 
'  Trust  not  in  thine  own  righteousness,  and  regret  not 
that  which  is  past.'  " 

"  I  do  neither,  Pambo." 

"  Do  not  be  too  sure  of  that.  Is  it  not  because  thou 
art  still  trusting  in  thyself,  that  thou  dost  regret  the  past, 
which  shows  thee  that  thou  art  not  that  which  thou 
wouldst  gladly  pride  thyself  on  being  ?  " 

"  Pambo,  my  friend,"  said  Arsenius,  solemnly,  "  I 
will  tell  thee  all.  My  sins  are  not  yet  past ;  for  Hono- 
rius,  my  pupil,  still  lives,  and  in  him  lives  the  weakness 
and  the  misery  of  Rome.  My  sins  past  ?  If  they  are, 
why  do  I  see  rising  before  me,  night  after  night,  that 
train  of  accusing  spectres,  ghosts  of  men  slain  in  battle, 
widows  and  orplians,  virgins  of  the  Lord  shrieking  in 
the  grasp  of  barbarians,  who  stand  by  my  bedside,  and 
cry,  '  Hadst  thou  done  thy  duty,  we  had  not  been  thus ! 
Where  is  that  imperial  charge  which  God  committed  to 


THE    LAURA    AGAIN.  221 , 

thee  ?'"....  And  the  old  man  hid  his  face  in  his 
hands,  and  wept  bitterly. 

Pambo  laid  his  hand  again  tenderly  on  the  weeper's 
shoulder. 

"  Is  there  no  pride  here,  my  brother  ?  Who  art  thou, 
to  change  the  fate  of  nations  and  the  hearts  of  emper- 
ors, which  are  in  the  hand  of  the  King  of  kings.  If  thou 
wert  weak,  and  imperfect  in  thy  work,  —  for  un^ithful, 
I  will  warrant  thee,  thou  wert  never,  —  He  put  thee 
there,  because  thou  wert  imperfect,  that  so  that  which 
has  come  to  pass  might  come  to  pass  ;  and  thou  bearest 
thine  own  burden  only,  —  and  yet  not  thou  ;  but  He  who 
^Dore  it  for  thee." 

"  Why  then  am  I  tormented  by  these  nightly  vis- 
ions ?  " 

"  Fear  them  not,  friend.  They  are  spirits  of  evil, 
and  therefore  lying  spirits.  Were  they  good  spirits, 
they  would  speak  to  thee  only  in  pity,  forgiveness,  en- 
couragement. But  be  they  ghosts  or  demons,  they 
must  be  evil,  because  they  are  accusers,  like  the  Evil 
One  himself,  the  accuser  of  the  saints.  He  is  the  father 
of  lies,  and  his  children  will  be  hke  himself.  What 
said  the  blessed  Anthony  ?  That  a  monk  should  not 
busy  his  brain  with  painting  spectres,  or  give  himself 
up  for  lost ;  but  rather  be  cheerful,  as  one  who  knows 
that  he  is  redeemed,  and  in  the  hands  of  the  Lord, 
where  the  Evil  One  has  no  power  to  hurt  him.  '  For,' 
he  used  to  say,  '  the  demons  behave  to  us  even  as  they 
find  us.  If  they  see  us  cast  down  and  faithless,  they 
terrify  us  still  more,  that  they  may  plunge  us  in  despair. 
But  if  they  see  us  full  of  faith,  and  joyful  in  the  Lord, 
with  our  souls  filled  with  the  glory  which  shall  be,  then 
they  shrink  abashed,  and  flee  away  in  confusion.'    Cheer 


222  HYPATIA. 

up,  friend  !  such  thoughts  are  of  the  night,  the  hour  of 
Satan  and  of  the  j)0\vers  of  darkness ;  and  with  the 
dawn  they  flee  away." 

"And  yet  tilings  are  revealed  to  men  upon  their  beds, 
in  visions  of  the  night." 

"  Be  it  so.  Nothing,  at  all  events,  has  been  revealed 
to  thee  upon  thy  bed,  except  that  which  thou  knowest 
already  far  better  than  Satan  does,  namely,  that  thou 
art  a  sinner.  But  for  me,  my  friend,  though  I  doubt 
not  that  such  things  are,  it  is  the  day,  and  not  the  night, 
which  brings  revelations." 

"  How,  then  .?  " 

"  Because  by  day  I  can  see  to  read  that  book  which 
is  written,  like  the  Law  given  on  Sinai,  upon  tables  of 
stone,  by  the  finger  of  God  himself." 

Arsenius  looked  up  at  him  inquiringly.  Pambo 
smiled. 

"  Thou  knowest  that,  like  many  holy  men  of  old,  I 
am  no  scholar,  and  knew  not  even  the  Greek  tongue, 
till  thou,  out  of  thy  brotherly  kindness,  taughtest  it  to  me. 
But  hast  thou  never  heard  what  Anthony  said  to  a  cer- 
tain Pagan  who  reproached  him  with  his  ignorance  of 
books  t  '  Which  is  first,'  he  asked,  '  spirit,  or  letter  ?  — 
Spirit,  sayest  thou  ?  Then  know,  the  healthy  spirit 
needs  no  letters.  My  book  is  the  whole  creation,  lying 
open  before  me,  wherein  I  can  read,  whensoever  I 
please,  the  word  of  God.'  " 

"  Dost  thou  not  undervalue  learning,  my  friend  ?  " 

"  I  am  old  among  monks,  and  have  seen  much  of 
their  ways ;  and  among  them  my  simplicity  seems  to 
have  seen  this,  —  many  a  man  weai*ying  himself  with 
study,  and  tormenting  his  soul  as  to  whether  he  be- 
lieved rightly  this  doctrine  and  that,  while  he  knew  not 


THE    LAURA    AGAIN.  223 

with  Solomon  that  in  much  learning  is  much  sorrow, 
and  that  while  he  was  puzzling  at  the  letter  of  God's 
message,  the  spirit  of  it  was  going  faster  and  faster  out 
of  him." 

"  And  how  didst  thou  know  that  of  such  a  man  ?  " 

"  By  seeing  him  become  a  more  and  more  learned 
theologian,  and  more  and  more  zealous  for  the  letter  of 
orthodoxy  ;  and  yet  less  and  less  loving  and  merciful, 
—  less  and  less  full  of  trust  in  God,  and  of  hopeful 
thoughts  for  himself  and  for  his  brethren,  till  he  seemed 
to  have  darkened  his  whole  soul  with  disputations,  which 
breed  only  strife,  and  to  have  forgotten  utterly  the  mes- 
sage which  is  written  in  that  book  wherewith  the  bless- 
ed Anthony  was  content." 

"  Of  what  message  dost  thou  speak  .?  " 

"  Look,"  said  the  old  abbot,  stretching  his  hand  to- 
ward the  Eastern  desert,  "  and  judge,  like  a  wise  man, 
for  thyself!" 

As  he  spoke,  a  long  arrow  of  level  light  flashed  down 
the  gorge  from  crag  to  crag,  awakening  every  crack 
and  slab  to  vividness  and  life.  The  great  crimson  sun 
rose  swiftly  through  the  dim  night-mist  of  the  desert, 
and  as  he  poured  his  glory  down  the  glen,  the  haze  rose 
in  threads  and  plumes,  and  vanished,  leaving  the  stream 
to  sparkle  round  the  rocks,  like  the  living,  twinkling  eye 
of  the  whole  scene.  Swallows  flashed  by  hundreds  out 
of  tho  cliffs,  and  began  their  air-dance  for  the  day  ;  the 
jerboa  hopped  stealthily  homeward  on  his  stilts  from  his 
stolen  meal  in  the  monastery  garden  ;  the  brown  sand- 
lizards  underneath  the  stones  opened  one  eyelid  each, 
and  having  satisfied  themselves  that  it  was  day,  dragged 
their  bloated  bodies  and  whip-like  tails  out  into  the  most 
burning  patch  of  gravel   which   they  could  find,  and 


224 


HYPATIA. 


nestling  together  as  a  further  protection  against  cold, 
fell  fast  asleep  again  ;  the  buzzard,  who  considered 
himself  lord  of  the  valley,  awoke  with  a  long,  querulous 
bark,  and  rising  aloft  in  two  or  three  vast  rings,  tb 
stretch  himself  after  his  night's  sleep,  hung  motionless, 
watching  every  lark  which  chirruped  on  the  cliffs ; 
while  from  the  far-off  Nile  below,  the  awakening  croak 
of  pelicans,  the  clang  of  geese,  the  whistle  of  the  godvvit 
and  curlew,  came  ringing  up  the  windings  of  the  glen  ; 
and  last  of  all  the  voices  of  the  monks  rose,  chanting  a 
morning  hymn  to  some  wild  Eastern  air ;  and  a  new 
day  had  begun  in  Scetis,  like  those  which  went  before, 
and  those  which  were  to  follow  after,  week  after  week, 
year  after  year,  of  toil  and  prayer  as  quiet  as  its  sleep. 

"  What  does  that  teach  thee,  Aufugus,  my  friend  ?  " 

Arsenius  was  silent. 

"  To  me  it  teaches  this  :  that  God  is  light,  and  in  Him 
is  no  darkness  at  all.  That  in  His  presence  is  life,  and 
fulness  of  joy  for  evermore.  That  He  is  the  giver,  who 
delights  in  His  own  bounty  ;  the  lover,  whose  mercy  is 
over  all  His  works,  —  and  why  not  over  thee  too,  O  thou 
of  little  faith  ?  Look  at  those  thousand  birds,  —  and 
without  our  Father  not  one  of  them  shall  fall  to  the 
ground  :  and  art  thou  not  of  more  value  than  many 
sparrows,  thou  for  whom  God  sent  his  Son  to  die  ?  ...  . 
Ah,  my  friend,  we  must  look  out  and  around,  to  see 
what  God  is  like.  It  is  when  we  persist  in  turning  our 
eyes  inward,  and  prying  curiously  over  our  own  imper- 
fections, that  we  learn  to  make  a  God  after  our  own  im- 
age, and  fancy  that  our  own  darkness  and  hardness  of 
heart  are  the  patterns  of  His  light  and  love." 

"  Thou  speakest  rather  as  a  philosopher  than  as  a 
penitent  Catholic.     For  me,  I  feel  that  I  want  to  look 


THE    LAURA   AGAIN. 


225 


more,  and  noteless,  inward.  Deeper  self-examination, 
completer  abstraction,  than  I  can  attain  even  here,  are 
what  I  crave  for.  I  long  —  forgive  me,  my  friend  — 
but  I  long  more  and  more,  daily,  for  the  solitary  life. 
This  earth  is  accursed  by  man's  sin  :  the  less  we  see  of 
it,  it  seems  to  me,  the  better." 

"  I  may  speak  as  a  philosopher,  or  as  a  heathen,  for 
aught  I  know  :  yet  it  seems  to  me  that,  as  they  say,  the 
half  loaf  is  better  than  noile  ;  that  the  wise  man  will 
make  the  best  of  what  he  has,  and  throw  away  no  les- 
son because  the  book  is  somewhat  torn  and  soiled.  The 
earth  teaches  me  thus  far  already.  Shall  I  shut  my 
eyes  to  those  invisible  things  of  God  which  are  clearly 
manifested  by  the  things  which  are  made,  because  some 
day  they  will  be  more  clearly  manifested  than  now  ? 
But  as  for  more  abstraction,  are  we  so  worldly  here  in 
Scetis  ?  " 

"  Nay,  my  friend,  each  man  has  surely  his  vocation, 
and  for  each  some  peculiar  method  of  life  is  more  edi- 
fying than  another.  In  my  case,  the  habits  of  mind 
which  I  acquired  in  the  world  will  cling  to  me  in  spite 
of  myself  even  here.  I  cannot  help  watching  the  do- 
ings of  others,  studying  their  characters,  planning  and 
plotting  for  them,  trying  to  prognosticate  their  future 
fate.  Not  a  word,  not  a  gesture  of  this  our  little  family, 
but  turns  away  my  mind  from  the  one  thing  needful." 

"  And  do  you  fancy  that  the  anchorite  in  his  cell  has 
fewer  distractions  ?  " 

"  What  can  he  have  but  the  supply  of  the  mere  ne- 
cessary wants  of  life  ;  and  them,  even,  he  may  abridge  to 
the  gathering  of  a  few  roots  and  herbs.  Men  have  lived 
like  the  beasts  already,  that  they  might  at  the  same  time 
live  like  the  angels,  —  and  why  should  not  I  also  ? " 


226  HYPATIA. 

"  And  thou  art  the  wise  man  of  the  world,  —  the  stu- 
dent of  the  hearts  of  others,  —  the  anatomizer  of  thine 
own  ?     Hast  thou  not  found  out  tliat,  beside  a  craving 
stomach,  man  carries  with  him  a  corrupt  heart  ?     Many 
a  man  I  have  seen,  who,  in  his   haste  to  fly  from  the 
fiends  without  him,  has  forgotten  to  close  the  door  of  his 
heart  against  worse  fiends  who  were  ready  to  harbor 
within   him.     Many  a  monk,  friend,  changes  his  place, 
but  not  the  anguish  of  his  soul.     I  have  known  those 
who,  driven  to  feed  on  their  own  thoughts  in  solitude, 
have  desperately  cast  themselves  from  cliffs  or  ripped 
up  their  own  bodies,  in  the   longing  to  escape  from 
thoughts,  from  which  one  companion,  one  kindly  voice, 
might  have  delivered   them.     I  have  known  those,  too, 
who  have  been  so  puffed   up   by  those  very  penances 
which  were  meant  to  humble  them,  that  they  have  de- 
spised all  means  of  grace,  as  though  they  were  already 
perfect,  and,  refusing  even   the   holy   Eucharist,  have 
lived  in  self-glorying  dreams  and  visions  suggested  by 
the  evil  spirits.     One  such  I  knew,  who,  in  the  madness 
of  his  pride,   refused  to  be  counselled   by  any  mortal 
man,  —  saying  that  he  would  call  no  man  master :  and 
what  befell  him  ?     He  who  used  to  pride  himself  on 
wandering  a  day's  journey  into  the  desert  without  food 
or  drink,  who  boasted  that  he  coidd  sustain  life  for  three 
months  at  a  time  only  on  wild   herbs  and  the   Blessed 
Bread,  seized  with  an   inward    fire,  fled  from  his  cell 
back  to  the   theatres,  the  circus,  and  the  taverns,  and 
ended  his  miserable  days  in  desperate  gluttony,  holding 
all  things  to  be  but  phantasms,  denying  his  own  exist- 
ence, and  that  of  God  himself." 

Arsenius  shook  his  head. 

"  Be  it  so.     But  my  case  is  different.     I  have  yet 


THE    LAURA  AGAIN.  227 

more  to  confess,  my  friend.  Day  by  day  I  am  more 
and  more  haunted  by  the  remembrance  of  that  world 
from  which  I  fled.  I  know  that  if  I  returned  I  should 
feel  no  pleasure  in  those  pomps  which,  even  while  I 
battened  on  them,  I  despised.  Can  I  hear  any  more 
the  voice  of  singing  men  and  singing  women  ;  or  discern 
any  longer  what  I  eat  or  what  I  drink  ?  And  yet  — 
the  palaces  of  those  seven  hills,  their  statesmen  and 
their  generals,  their  intrigues,  their  falls,  and  their  tri- 
umphs,—  for  they  might  rise  and  conquer  yet  !  —  for 
no  moment  are  they  out  of  my  imagination,  —  no  mo- 
ment in  which  they  are  not  tempting  me  back  to  them, 
like  a  moth  to  the  candle  which  has  already  scorched 
him,  with  a  dreadful  spell,  which  I  must  at  last  obey, 
wretch  that  I  am,  against  my  own  will,  or  break  by 
fleeing  into  some  outer  desert,  from  whence  return  will 
be  impossible  ! " 

Pambo  smiled. 

"  Again  I  say,  this  is  the  worldly  wise  man,  the 
searcher  of  hearts  !  And  he  would  fain  flee  from  the 
little  Laura,  which  does  tyrn  his  thoughts  at  times  from 
such  vain  dreams,  to  a  solitude  where  he  will  be  utterly 
unable  to  escape  those  dreams.  Well,  friend  !  —  and 
what  if  thou  art  troubled  at  times  by  anxieties  and 
schemes  for  this  brother  and  for  that .?  Better  to  be 
anxious  for  others  than  only  for  thyself.  Better  to  have 
something  to  love  —  even  something  to  weep  over  — 
than  to  become  in  some  lonely  cavern  thine  own  world, 
—  perhaps,  as  more  than  one  whom  I  have  known,  thine 
own  God." 

"  Do  you  know  what  you  are  saying  ?  "  asked  Arse- 
nius,  in  a  startled  tone. 

"  I  say,  that  by  fleeing  into  solitude  a  man  cuts  him- 


228 


HYPATIA. 


self  off  from  all  which  makes  a  Christian  man  ;  from 
law,  obedience,  fellow-help,  self-sacrifice,  —  from  the 
communion  of  saints  itself" 

"  How  then  ?  " 

"  How  canst  thou  hold  communion  with  those  toward 
whom  thou  canst  show  no  love  ?  And  how  canst  thou 
show  thy  love  but  by  works  of  love  ?  " 

"  I  can,  at  least,  pray  day  and  night  for  all  mankind. 
Has  that  no  place  —  or  rather,  has  it  not  the  mightiest 
place  —  in  the  communion  of  saints  ?  " 

"  He  who  cannot  pray  for  his  brothers  whom  he  does 
see,  and  whose  sins  and  temptations  he  knows,  will  pray 
but  dully,  my  friend  Aufugus,  for  his  brothers  whom  he 
does  not  see,  or  for  any  thing  else.  And  he  who  will 
not  labor  for  his  brothers,  the  same  will  soon  cease  to 
pray  for  them,  or  love  them  either.  And  then,  what  is 
written  ?  '  If  a  man  love  not  his  brother  whom  he  hath 
seen,  how  will  he  love  God  whom  he  hath  not  seen  ? '  " 

"  Again,  I  say,  do  you  know  whither  your  argument 
leads  ? " 

"  I  'am  a  plain  man,  and  know  nothing  about  argu- 
ments. If  a  thing  be  true,  let  it  lead  where  it  will,  for 
it  leads  where  God  wills." 

"  But  at  this  rate,  it  were  better  for  a  man  to  take  a 
wife,  and  have  children,  and  mix  himself  up  in  all  the 
turmoil  of  carnal  affections,  in  ordSr  to  have  as  many 
as  possible  to  love,  and  fear  for,  and  work  for." 

Pambo  was  silent  awhile. 

"  I  am  a  monk,  and  no  logician.  But  this  I  say,  that 
thou  leavest  not  the  Laura  for  the  desert  with  my  good 
will.  I  would  rather,  had  I  my  wish,  see  thy  wisdom 
installed  somewhere  nearer  the  metropolis,  —  at  Tree 
or  Canopus,  for  example,  —  where  thou  mightest  be  at 


THE    LAURA  AGAIN. 


229 


hand  to  fight  the  Lord's  battles.  Why  wert  thou  taught 
worldly  wisdom,  but  to  use  it  for  the  good  of  the  Church  ? 
It  is  enough.     Let  us  go." 

And  the  two  old  men  walked  homeward  across  the 
valley,  little  guessing  the  practical  answer  which  was 
ready  for  their  argument,  in  Abbot  Pambo's  cell,  in  the 
shape  of  a  tall  and  grim  ecclesiastic,  who  was  busily 
satisfying  his  hunger  with  dates  and  millet,  and  by  no 
means  refusing  the  palm-wine,  the  sole  delicacy  of  the 
monastery,  which  had  been  brought  forth  only  in  honor 
of  a  guest. 

The  stately  and  courteous  hospitality  of  Eastern 
manners,  as  well  as  the  self-restraining  kindliness  of 
monastic  Christianity,  forbade  the  abbot  to  interrupt  the 
stranger  ;  and  it  was  not  till  he  had  finished  a  hearty 
meal  that  Pambo  asked  his  name  and  errand. 

"  My  unworthiness  is  called  Peter-  the  Reader.  1 
come  from  Cyril,  with  letters  and  messages  to  the 
brother  Aufugus." 

Pambo  rose,  and  bowed  reverentially. 
"  We  have  heard  your  good  report,  sir,  as  of  one 
zealously  affected  in  the  cause  of  the   Church  Cath- 
olic.    Will  it  please  you  to  follow  us  to  the  cell  of  Au- 
fugus ?  " 

Peter  stalked  after  them  with  a  sufficiently  important 
air  to  the  little  hut,  and  there,  taking  from  his  bosom 
Cyril's  epistle,  handed  it  to  Arsenius,  who  sat  long, 
reading  and  re-reading  with  a  clouded  brow,  while 
Pambo  watched  him  with  simple  awe,  not  daring  to  in- 
terrupt by  a  question  lucubrations  which  he  considered 
of  unfathomable  depth. 

"  These  are  indeed  the  last  days,"  said  Arsenius,  at 
length,  "  spoken  of  by  the  prophet,  when  many  shall 


230 


HYPATIA. 


run  to  and  fro.     So  Heraclian  has  actually  sailed  for 
Italy  ?  " 

"  His  armament  was  met  on  the  high  seas  by  Alex- 
andrian mcrcliantmen,  three  weeks  ago." 

"  And  Orestes  hardens  his  heart  more  and  more  ?  " 

"  Ay,  Pharaoh  that  he  is  ;  or  rather,  the  heathen  wo- 
man hardens  it  for  him." 

"  I  always  feared  that  woman  above  all  the  schools  of 
the  heathen,"  said  Arsenius.  "  But  the  Count  Hera- 
clian, whom  I  always  held  for  the  wisest  as  well  as  the 
most  righteous  of  men  !  Alas  !  alas  I  what  virtue  will 
withstand,  when  ambition  enters  the  heart  ?  " 

"  Fearful,  truly,"  said  Peter,  "  is  that  same  lust  of 
power  :  but  for  him,  I  have  never  trusted  him  since  he 
began  to  be  indulgent  to  those  Donatists." 

"  Too  true.     So  does  one  sin  beget  another." 

"  And  I  consider  that  indulgence  to  sinners  is  the 
worst  of  all  sins  whatsoever." 

"  Not  of  all,  surely,  reverent  sir  ? "  said  Pambo, 
humbly.  But  Peter,  taking  no  notice  of  the  interrup- 
tion, went  on  to  Arsenius,  — 

"  And  now,  what  answer  am  I  to  bear  back  from 
your  wisdom  to  his  holiness  ?  " 

"  Let  me  see,  —  let  me  see.  He  might  —  It  needs 
consideration  —  I  ought  to  know  more  of  the  state  of 
parties.  He  has,  of  course,  communicated  with  the 
African  bishops,  and  tried  to  unite  them  with  him  !  " 

"  Two  months  ago.  But  the  stiff-necked  schismatics 
are  still  jealous  of  him,  and  hold  aloof." 

"  Schismatics  is  too  harsh  a  term,  my  friend.  But 
has  he  sent  to  Constantinople  ?  " 

"  He   needs  a   messenger  accustomed  to  courts.     It 


THE    LAURA   AGAIN.  231 

was  possible,  he  thought,  that  your  experience  might 
undertake  the  mission." 

"  Me  ?  Who  am  I  ?  Alas  !  alas  !  fresh  temptation 
daily!  Let  him  send  by  the  hand  of  whom  he  will. 
....  And  yet  —  were  I  —  at  least  in  Alexandria —  I 
might  advise  from  day  to  day.  ...  I  should    certainly 

see   my  way  clearer And    unforeseen   chances 

might   arise,   too Pambo,    my   friend,   thinkest 

thou  that  it  would  be  sinful  to  obey  the  Holy  Patri- 
arch ?  " 

"  Aha !  "  said  Pambo,  laughing,  "  and  thou  art  he 
who  was  for  fleeing  into  the  desert  an  hour  agone  ? 
And  now  when  once  thou  smellest  the  battle  afar  off, 
thou  art  pawing  in  the  valley,  like  the  old  war-horse. 
Go,  and  God  be  with  thee  !  Thou  wilt  be  none  the 
worse  for  it.  Thou  art  too  old  to  fall  in  love,  too  poor 
to  buy  a  bishopric,  and  too  righteous  to  have  one  given 
thee." 

"  Art  thou  in  earnest  ?  " 

"  What  did  I  say  to  thee  in  the  garden  ?  Go,  and 
see  our  son,  and  send  me  news  of  him." 

"  Ah  !  shame  on  my  worldly-mindedness !  I  had 
forgotten  all  this  time  to  inquire  for  him.  How  is  the 
youth,  reverent  sir  ?  " 

"  Whom  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Philammon,  our  spiritual  son,  whom  we  sent  down 
to  you  three  months  ago,"  said  Pambo.  "  Risen  to 
honor  he  is,  by  this  time,  I  doubt  not .''  " 

"  He  ?     He  is  gone  ! " 

"  Gone  >  " 

"  Ay,  the  wretch,  with  the  curse  of  Judas  on  him. 
He  had  not  been  with  us  three  days  before  he  beat  me 
openly  in  the  patriarch's  court,  cast  off  the  Christian 


232  HYPATIA. 

faith,  and  fled  away  to  the  heathen  woman,  Hypatia,  of 
whom  he  is  enamored." 

The  two  old  men  looked  at  each  other  with  blank 
and  horror-stricken  faces. 

"  Enamored  of  Hypatia  ?  "  said  Arsenius,  at  last. 

"  It  is  impossible  !  "  sobbed  Pambo.  "  The  boy  must 
have  been  treated  harshly,  unjustly  !  Some  one  has 
wronged  him  ;  and  he  was  accustomed  only  to  kindness, 
and  so  could  not  bear  it.  Cruel  men  that  you  are,  and 
unfaithful  stewards !  The  Lord  will  require  the  child's 
blood  at  your  hands  !  " 

"  Ay,"  said  Peter,  rising  fiercely,  "  that  is  the 
world's  justice  !  Blame  me,  blame  the  patriarch,  blame 
any  and  every  one  but  the  sinner !  As  if  a  hot  head 
and  a  hotter  heart  were  not  enough  to  explain  it  all ! 
As  if  a  young  fool  had  never  before  been  bewitched  by 
a  fair  face  !  " 

"  O  my  friends,  my  friends,"  cried  Arsenius,  "  why 
revile  each  other  without  cause  ?  I,  I  only  am  to  blame. 
I  advised  you,  Pambo  !  —  I  sent  him  —  1  ought  to  have 
known  — what  was  I  doing,  old  worldling  that  I  am,  to 
thrust  the  poor  innocent  forth  into  the  temptations  of 
Babylon  ?  This  comes  of  all  my  schemings  and  my 
plottings  !  And  now  his  blood  will  be  on  my  head  — 
as  if  I  had  not  sins  enough  to  bear  already,  I  must  go 
and  add  this  over  and  above  all,  to  sell  my  own  Joseph, 
the  son  of  my  old  age,  to  the  Midianites  !  Here,  I  will 
go  with  you  —  now  —  at  once  —  I  will  not  rest  till  I 
find  him,  clasp  his  knees  till  he  pities  my  gray  hairs  ! 
Let  Heraclian  and  Orestes  go  their  way  for  aught  I  care 

I  vvill  find  him,  I  say.     O  Absalom,  my  son  !  would 

God  I  had  died  for  thee,  my  son  !  my  son  !  " 


233 


CHAPTER    XII, 


THE    BOWER    OF    ACRASIA. 


The  house  which  Pelagia  and  the  Amal  had  hired 
after  their  return  to  Alexandria,  was  one  of  the  most 
splendid  in  the  city.  They  had  been  now  living  there 
three  months  or  more,  and  in  that  time  Pelagia's  taste 
had  supplied  the  little  which  it  needed  to  convert  it  into 
a  paradise  of  lazy  luxury.  She  herself  was  wealthy ; 
and  her  Gothic  guests,  overburdened  with  Roman  spoils, 
the  veiy  use  of  which  they  could  not  understand,  freely 
allowed  her  and  her  nymphs  to  throw  away  for  them 
the  treasures  which  they  had  won  in  many  a  fearful 
fight.  What  matter  ?  If  they  had  enough  to  eat,  and 
more  than  enough  to  drink,  how  could  the  useless  sur- 
plus of  their  riches  be  better  spent  than  in  keeping  their 
ladies  in  good  humor  ?  .  .  .  .  And  when  it  was  all  gone 
....  they  would  go  somewhere  or  other,  —  who  cared 
whither  ?  —  and  win  more.  The  whole  world  was  be- 
fore them  waiting  to  be  plundered,  and  they  would  fulfil 
their  mission,  whensoever  it  suited  them.  In  the  mean 
time  they  were  in  no  hurry.  Egypt  furnished  in  profu- 
sion every  sort  of  food  which  could  gratify  palates  far 
more  nice  than  theirs.    And  as  for  wine,  —  few  of  them 

VOL.   I.  16 


234  HYPATIA. 

went  to  bed  sober  from  one  week's  end  to  another. 
Could  the  souls  of  warriors  have  more,  even  in  the  halls 
of  Valhalla  ? 

So  thought  the  party  who  occupied  the  inner  court  of 
the  house,  one  blazing  afternoon  in  the  same  week  in 
which  Cyril's  messenger  had  so  rudely  broken  in  on  the 
repose  of  the  Scetis. 

Their  repose,  at  least,  was  still  untouched.  The 
great  city  roared  without ;  Orestes  plotted,  and  Cyril 
counterplotted,  and  the  fate  of  a  continent  hung  —  or 
seemed  to  hang  —  trembling  in  the  balance;  but  the 
turmoil  of  it  all  no  more  troubled  those  lazy  Titans 
within,  than  did  the  roll  and  rattle  of  the  carriage-wheels 
disturb  the  parakeets  and  sunbirds  who  peopled,  under 
an  awning  of  gilded  wire,  the  inner  court  of  Pelagia's 
house.  Why  should  they  fret  themselves  with  it  all  ? 
What  was  every  fresh  riot,  execution,  conspiracy,  bank- 
ruptcy, but  a  sign  that  the  fruit  was  growing  ripe  for 
the  plucking?  Even  Hcraclian's  rebellion,  and  Ores- 
tes' suspected  conspiracy,  wore  to  the  younger  and 
coarser  Goths  a  sort  of  child's  play,  at  which  they  could 
look  on,  and  laugh,  and  bet,  from  morning  to  night ; 
while  to  the  more  cunning  heads,  such  as  Wulf  and 
Smid,  they  were  but  signs  of  the  general  rottenness, — 
new  cracks  in  those  great  walls,  over  which  they  in- 
tended, whh  a  simple  and  boyish  consciousness  of 
power,  to  mount  to  victory  when  they  chose. 

And  in  the  mean  time,  till  the  right  opening  offered, 
what  was  there  better  than  to  eat,  drink,  and  sleep  ? 
And  certainly  they  had  chosen  a  charming  retreat  in 
which  to  fulfil  that  lofty  mission.  Columns  of  j)urple 
and  o-reon  porphyry,  among  which  gleamed  the  white 
limbs  of  delicate  statues,  surrounded  a  basin  of  water, 


THE    BOWER    OF    ACRASIA,  235 

fed  by  a  perpetual  jet,  which  sprinkled  with  cool  spray 
the  leaves  of  the  oranges  and  mimosas,  mingling  its 
murmurs  with  the  warblings  of  the  tropic  birds  who 
nestled  among  the  branches. 

On  one  side  of  the  fountain,  under  the  shade  of  a 
broad-leaved  palmetto,  lay  the  Amal's  mighty  limbs, 
stretched  out  on  cushions,  his  yellow  hair  crowned  with 
vine-leaves,  his  hand  grasping  a  golden  cup,  which  had 
been  won  from  Indian  Rajahs  by  Parthian  Chosroos,  from 
Chosroos  by  Roman  generals,  from  Roman  generals  by 
the  heroes  of  sheep-skin  and  horse-hide  ;  while  Pelagia, 
by  the  side  of  the  sleepy  Herculus-Dionysos,  lay  lean- 
ing over  the  brink  of  the  fountain,  lazily  dipping  her 
fingers  into  the  water,  and  basking,  like  the  gnats  which 
hovered  over  its  surface,  in  the  mere  pleasure  of  exist- 
ence. 

On  the  opposite  brink  of  the  basin,  tended  each  by  a 
dark-eyed  Hebe,  who  filled  the  wine-cups,  and  helped 
now  and  then  to  empty  them,  lay  the  especial  friends 
and  companions  in  arms  of  the  Amal,  Goderic  the  son 
of  Ermenric,  and  Agilmund  the  son  of  Cniva,  who  both, 
like  the  Amal,  boasted  a  descent  from  gods  ;  and  last, 
but  not  least,  that  most  important  and  all  but  sacred  per- 
sonage, Smid  the  son  of  Troll,  reverenced  for  cunning 
beyond  the  sons  of  men ;  for  not  only  could  he  make 
and  mend  all  matters,  from  a  pontoon  bridge  to  a  gold 
bracelet,  shoe  horses  and  doctor  them,  charm  all  dis- 
eases out  of  man  and  beast,  carve  runes,  interpret  war- 
omens,  foretell  weather,  raise  the  winds,  and,  finally, 
conquer  in  the  battle  of  mead-horns  all  except  Wulf  the 
son  of  Ovida  ;  but  he  had  actually,  during  a  sojourn 
among  the  half-civilized  Maesogoths,  picked   up  a  fair 


236  HYPATIA. 

share  of  Latin  and  Greek,  and  a  rough  knowledge  of 
reading  and  writing. 

A  few  yards  otl'  lay  old  Wulf  upon  his  back,  his 
knees  in  the  air,  his  hands  crossed  behind  his  head, 
keeping  up,  even  in  his  sleep,  a  half-conscious  comment 
of  growls  on  the  following  intellectual  conversation  :  — 

"  Noble  wine  this,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"  Perfect.     Who  bought  it  for  us  ?  " 

"  Old  Miriam  bought  it,  at  some  great  tax-farmer's 
sale.  The  fellow  was  bankrupt,  and  Miriam  said  she 
got  it  for  the  half  what  it  was  worth." 

"  Serve  the  penny-turning  rascal  right.  The  old 
vixen-fox  took  care,  I  '11  warrant  her,  to  get  her  profit 
out  of  the  bargain." 

"  Never  mind  if  she  did.  We  can  afford  to  pay  like 
men,  if  we  earn  like  men." 

'«  We  sha'n't  afford  it  long,  at  this  rate,"   growled 

Wulf. 

"  Then  we  '11  go  and  earn  more.     I  am  tired  of  doing 

nothing." 

"People  need  not  do  nothing,  unless  they  choose," 
said  Goderic.  "  Wulf  and  I  had  coursing  fit  for  a  king, 
the  other  morning  on  the  sand-hills.  I  had  had  no 
appetite  for  a  week  before,  and  I  have  been  as  sharp- 
set  as  a  Danube  pike  ever  since." 

"  Coursing i  What,  with  those  long-legged  brush- 
tailed  brutes,  like  a  fox  upon  stilts,  which  the  prefect 
cozened  you  into  buying  ?  " 

"  All  I  can  say  is  that  we  put  up  a  herd  of  those 
what  do  they  call   them    here  —  deer   with  goat's 

horns  ?  " 

"  Antelopes  ?  " 

"  That 's  it,  —  and  the  curs  ran  into  them  as  a  falcon 


THE    BOWER    OF    ACRASIA.  237 

does  into  a  skein  of  ducks.  Wulf  and  I  galloped  and 
galloped  over  those  accursed  sand-heaps  till  the  horses 
stuck  fast ;  and  when  they  got  their  wind  again,  we 
found  each  pair  of  dogs  with  a  deer  down  between  them, 
—  and  what  can  man  want  more  —  if  he  cannot  get 
fighting  ?     You  eat  them,  so  you  need  not  sneer," 

"  Well,  dogs  are  the  only  things  worth  having,  then, 
that  this  Alexandria  does  produce." 

"  Except  fair  ladies  !  "  put  in  one  of  the  girls, 

"  Of  course.  I  '11  except  the  women.  But  the 
men " 

"  The  what  ?  I  have  not  seen  a  man  since  I  came 
here,  except  a  dock-worker  or  two,  —  priests  and  fine 
gentlemen  they  are  all, —  and  you  don't  call  them  men, 

surel}'  ?  " 

"  What  on  earth  do  they  do,  beside  riding  donkeys  ?  " 

"  Philosophize,  they  say." 

"  What 's  that  ?  " 

"  I  'm  sure  I  don't  know  :  some  sort  of  slave's  quill- 
driving,  I  suppose." 

"  Pelagia  !  do  you  know  what  philosophizing  is  ?  " 

"  No,  —  and  I  don't  care." 

"  I  do,"  quoth  Agilmund,  with  a  look  of  superior 
wisdom  ;  "  I  saw  a  philosopher  the  other  day," 

"  And  what  sort  of  thing  was  it  }  " 

"  I  '11  tell  you,  I  was  walking  down  the  great  street, 
there,  going  to  the  harbor  ;  and  I  saw  a  crowd  of  boys  — 
men,  they  call  them  here  —  going  into  a  large  door- 
way. So  I  asked  them  what  was  doing,  and  the  fellow, 
instead  of  answering  me,  pointed  at  my  legs,  and  set 
all  the  other  monkeys  laughing.  So  I  boxed  his  ears, 
and  he  tumbled  down." 

"  They  all  do  so  here,  if  you  box  their  ears,"  said  the 


238 


HYPATIA. 


Amal,  meditatively,  as  if  he  had  hit  upon  a  great  in- 
ductive law. 

"  Ah,"  said  Pclagia,  looking  up  with  her  most  win- 
ning smile,  "  they  are  not  such  giants  as  you,  who  make 
a  poor  little  woman  feel  like  a  gazelle  in  the  lion's 
paw  ! " 

"  Well,  —  it  struck  me  that,  as  I  spoke  in  Gothic,  the 
boy  might  not  have  understood  me,  being  a  Greek. 
So  I  walked  in  at  the  door,  to  save  questions,  and  see 
for  myself.  And  there  a  fellow  held  out  his  hand,  —  I 
suppose  for  money.  So  I  gave  him  two  or  three  gold 
pieces,  and  a  box  on  the  ear,  at  which  he  tumbled  down, 
of  course,  but  seemed  very  well  satisfied.     So  I  walked 


in." 


"  And  what  did  you  see  ?  " 

"  A  great  hall  large  enough  for  a  thousand  heroes, 
full  of  these  Egyptian  rascals  scribbling  with  pencils  on 
tablets.  And  at  the  farther  end  of  it,  the  most  beautiful 
woman  I  ever  saw,  —  with  right  fair  hair  and  blue  eyes, 
talking,  talking,  — I  could  not  understand  it ;  but  the 
donkey-riders  seemed  to  think  it  very  fine  ;  for  they 
went  on  looking  first  at  her,  and  then  at  their  tablets, 
gaping  like  frogs  in  drought.  And,  certainly,  she 
looked  as  fair  as  the  sun,  and  talked  like  an  Alruna 
wife.  Not  that  I  know  what  it  was  about,  but  one  can 
see  somehow,  you  know.  —  So  I  fell  asleep  ;  and  when 
I  woke,  and  came  out,  I  met  some  one  who  understood 
me,  and  he  told  me  that  it  was  the  famous  maiden,  the 
great  philosopher.  And  that's  what  I  know  about 
philosophy." 

"  She  was  very  much  wasted,  then,  on  such  soft- 
handed  starvelings.     Why  don't  she  marry  some  hero  ? " 

"  Because  there  are  none  here  to  marry,"  said  Pela- 


THE    BOWER    OF    ACRASIA.  239 

gia  ;    "  except  some   who  are    fast   netted,   1   fancy, 
already." 

"  But  what  do  they  talk  about,  and  tell  people  to  do, 
these  philosophers,  Pelagia  ?  " 

"  O,  they  don't  tell  any  one  to  do  any  thing,  —  at 
least,  if  they  do,  nobody  ever  does  it,  as  far  as  I  can 
see  ;  but  they  talk  about  suns  and  stars,  and  right  and 
wrong,  and  ghosts  and  spirits,  and  that  sort  of  thing  ; 
and  about  not  enjoying  one's  self  too  much.  Not  that  I 
ever  saw  that  they  were  any  happier  than  any  one 
else." 

"  She  must  have  been  an  Alruna-maiden,"  said  Wulf, 
half  to  himself. 

"  She  is  a  verj'  conceited  creature,  and  I  hate  her," 
said  Pelagia. 

"  I  believe  you,"  said  Wulf. 

"  What  is  an  Alruna  maiden  ?  "  asked  one  of  the 
girls. 

"  Something  as  like  you  as  a  salmon,  is  like  a  horse- 
leech.    Herges,  will  you  hear  a  saga  ?  " 

"  If  it  is  a  cool  one,"  said  Agilmund  ;  "  about  ice 
and  pine-trees,  and  snow-storms.  I  shall  be  roasted 
brown  in  three  days  more." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  the  Amal,  "  that  we  were  on  the  Alps 
again  for  only  two  hours,  sliding  down  those  snow- 
slopes  on  our  shields,  with  the  sleet  whistling  about 
our  ears.     That  was  sport !  " 

"  To  those  who  could  keep  their  seat,"  said  Goderic. 
"  Who  went  head  over  heels  into  a  glacier-crack,  and 
was  dug  out  of  fifty  feet  of  snow,  and  had  to  be  put 
inside  a  fresh-killed  horse  before  he  could  be  brought  to 
life  ?  " 

"  Not  you,  surely,"  said  Pelagia.     "  0  you  wonder- 


240 


HYPATIA. 


ful  creature !  what  tilings  you  have  done  and  suf- 
fered !  " 

"  Well,"  said  the  Amal,  with  a  look  of  stolid  self-satis- 
faction, "  I  suppose  I  have  seen  a  good  deal  in  my 
time,  eh  ?" 

"  Yes,  my  Hercules,  you  have  gone  through  your 
twelve  labors,  and  saved  your  poor  little  Hesione 
after  them  all,  when  she  was  chained  to  the  rock,  for 
the  ugly  sea-monsters  to  eat ;  and  she  will  cherish  you, 
and  keep  you  out  of  scrapes  now,  for  her  own  sake  "  ; 
and  Pelagia  threw  her  arms  round  the  great  bull-neck, 
and  drew  it  down  to  her. 

"  Will  you  hear  my  saga,"  said  Wulf,  impatiently. 

"  Of  course  we  will,"  said  the  Amal  ;  "  any  thing  to 
pass  the  time." 

"  But  let  it  be  about  snow,"  said  Agilmund. 

"  Not  about  Alruna  wives  ?  " 

"  About  them,  too,"  said  Goderic  ;  "  my  mother  was 
one,  so  I  must  needs  stand  up  for  them." 

"  She  was,  boy.  Do  you  be  her  son.  Now  hear. 
Wolves  of  the  Goths!" 

And  the  old  man  took  up  his  little  lute,  or,  as  he 
would  probably  have  called  it,  "  fidel,"  and  began 
chanting,  to  his  own  accompaniment. 

Over  the  camp-fires 
Drank  I  with  heroes, 
Under  the  Donau  bank 
Warm  in  the  snow-trench, 
Sagamcn  licard  I  there, 
Men  of  tlie  Longbeards, 
Cunning  and  ancient, 
Honey-swect-voiced. 
Scaring  tlie  wolf  cub, 
Scaring  the  horn-owl  out, 


THE   BOWER    OF   ACRASIA. 

Shaking  the  snow-wreaths 

Down  from  the  pine-boughs, 

Up  to  the  star-roof 

Rang  out  their  song. 

Singing  how  Winil  men, 

Over  the  ice-floes 

Sledging  from  Scanland  en 

Came  unto  Scoring ; 

Singing  of  Gambara 

Freya's  beloved, 

Mother  of  Ayo, 

Mother  of  Ibor. 

Singing  of  "Wendel  men 

Ambri  and  Assi ; 

How  to  the  Winilfolk 

Went  they  with  war-words,  — 

"  Few  are  ye,  strangers, 

And  many  are  we  ; 

Pay  us  now  toll  and  fee, 

Clothyarn,  and  rings,  and  beeves  ; 

Else  at  the  raven's  meal 

Bide  the  sharp  bill's  doom." 

Clutching  the  dwarfs'  work  then, 
Clutching  tlie  bullock's  shell, 
Girding  gray  iron  on. 
Forth  fiired  the  Winils  all. 
Fared  the  Alruna's  sons, 
Ayo  and  Ibor. 
Mad  of  heart  stalked  they : 
Loud  wept  the  women  all, 
Loud  the  Alruna  wife  ; 
Sore  was  their  need. 

Out  of  the  morning  land, 
Over  the  snow-drifts. 
Beautiful  Freya  came, 
Tripping  to  Scoring. 
White  were  the  moorlands 
And  frozen  before  her  ; 


241 


242 


HYPATIA. 

But  jjreen  were  tlic  moorlands, 

And  blooming  behind  her, 

Out  of  her  golden  locks 

Shaking  the  spring  flowers, 

Out  of  her  garments 

Shaking  the  south  wind, 

Around  jn  the  birches 

Awaking  the  throstles, 

And  making  chaste  housewives  all 

Long  for  their  lieroes  home, 

Loving  and  love-giving, 

Came  she  to  Scoring. 

Came  unto  Gambara, 

Wisest  of  Valas,  — 

"  Vala,  why  weepest  thou  1 

Far  in  the  wide-blue, 

High  up  in  the  Elfin-home, 

Heard  I  thy  weeping." 

"  Stop  not  my  weeping, 

Till  one  can  fight  seven. 

Sons  have  I,  heroes  tall. 

First  in  the  sword-])lay  ; 

This  day  at  the  Wendcls'  hands 

Eagles  must  tear  them  ; 

While  their  mothers,  thrall-weary. 

Must  grind  for  the  Wendels." 

Wept  the  Alruna  wife  ; 
Kissed  her  fiiir  Frcya,  — 
"  Far  off  in  the  morning  land, 
High  in  Valhalla, 
A  window  stands  open. 
Its  sill  is  the  snow-peaks. 
Its  posts  are  the  water-spouts, 
Storm-rack  its  lintel; 
Gold  cloud-flakes  above  it 
Are  piled  for  the  roofing. 
Far  up  to  the  Ellin-home, 
High  in  the  wide-blue. 


THE    BOWER    OF  ACRASIA.  243 

Smiles  out  each  morning  thence 

Odin  AUfather : 

From  under  the  cloud-eaves, 

Smiles  out  on  the  heroes, 

Smiles  out  on  chaste  house^vives  all, 

Smiles  on  the  brood-mares, 

Smiles  on  the  smiths'  work  : 

And  theirs  is  the  sword-luck, 

TVith  them  is  the  glorj,  — 

So  Odin  hath  sworn  it,  — 

Who  first  in  the  morning 

Shall  meet  him  and  greet  him." 

Still  the  Alruna  wept, — 
"  Who  then  shall  greet  him  ? 
Women  alone  are  here  : 
Far  on  the  moorlands 
Behind  the  war-lindens, 
In  vain  for  the  bill's  doom 
Watch  Winil  heroes  all, 
One  against  seven." 

Sweetly  the  Queen  laughed,  — 

"  Hear  thou  my  counsel  now  ; 

Take  to  thee  cunning. 

Beloved  of  Freya. 

Take  thou  thy  women-folk, 

Maidens  and  wives : 

Over  your  ankles 

Lace  on  the  white  war-hose  ; 

Over  your  bosoms 

Link  up  the  hard  mailncts ; 

Over  your  lips 

Plait  long  tresses  with  cunning  ;  — 

So  war-beasts  full-bearded 

King  Odin  shall  deem  you. 

When  off  the  gray  sea-beach 

At  sunrise  ye  greet  him." 

Night's  son  was  driving 
His  golden-haired  horses  up  ; 


244 


HYPATIA. 

Orer  the  Eastern-firths 
High  flashed  their  mames. 
Smiled  from  tlic  eloud-eaves  out 
Allfather  Odin 
Waiting  tlie  battle-sport : 
Preya  stood  by  him. 

"  Who  are  these  heroes  tall,  — 
Lu^ty-limbcd  Longbeards  ? 
Over  the  swans'  bath 
Why  cry  they  to  me  ? 
Bones  should  l)e  crashing  fast, 
Wolves  should  Ije  full-fed, 
Where'er  such,  mad-hearted. 
Swing  hands  in  the  sword-play." 

Sweetly  laughed  Freya,  — 

"  A  name  thou  hast  given  them 

Shames  neither  thee  nor  them, 

Well  can  they  wear  it. 

Give  them  the  victory, 

First  have  they  greeted  thee  ; 

Give  them  the  victory. 

Yokefellow  mine ! 

Maidens  and  wives  are  these,  — 

Wives  of  the  Winils  ; 

Few  are  their  heroes 

And  far  on  the  war-road. 

So  over  the  swan's  bath 

They  cry  unto  thee." 

Royally  laughed  he  then ; 
Dear  was  this  craft  to  him, 
Odin  Allfather, 

Shaking  the  clouds.  ' 

"  Cunning  are  women  all. 
Bold  and  importunate  ! 
Longbeards  their  name  shall  be. 
Ravens  shall  thank  them  : 
Where  the  women  are  heroes, 


THE    BOWER    OF  ACRASIA.  245 

What  must  the  men  be  like  1 
Theirs  is  the  victory  ; 
No  need  of  me  !  "  * 

"  There  !  "  said  Wulf,  when  the  song  was  ended, 
"  is  that  cool  enough  for  you  ?  " 

"  Rather  too  cool  ;  eh,  Pelagia  !  "  said  the  Amal, 
laughing. 

"  Ay,"  went  on  the  old  man,  bitterly  enough,  "  such 
were  your  mothers  ;  and  such  were  your  sisters  ;  and 
such  your  wives  must  be,  if  you  intend  to  last  much 
longer  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  —  women  who  care  for 
something  better  than  good  eating,  strong  drinking,  and 
soft  lying." 

"  All  very  true.  Prince  Wulf,"  said  Agilmund,  "  but 
I  don't  like  the  saga,  after  all.  It  was  a  great  deal  too 
like  what  Pelagia  here  says  those  philosophers  talk 
about,  —  right  and  wrong,  and  that  sort  of  thing." 

"  I  don't  doubt  it." 

"  Now  I  like  a  really  good  saga,  about  gods  and 
giants,  and  the  fire  kingdoms,  and  the  snow  kingdoms, 
and  the  Msir  making  men  and  women  out  of  two  sticks, 
and  all  that." 

"  Ay,"  said  the  Amal,  "  something  like  nothing  one 
ever  saw  in  one's  life,  all  stark-mad  and  topsy-turvy, 
like  one's  dreams  when  one  has  been  drunk  ;  some- 
thing grand  which  you  cannot  understand,  but  which 
sets  you  thinking  over  it  all  the  morning  after." 


*  This  punning  legend  may  be  seen  in  Paul  Warnefrid's  Gesta 
Langobardorum.  Unfortunately,  however,  for  the  story,  Langbardr 
is  said  by  the  learned  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  beards  at  all,  but 
probably  to  mean  "  Longswords."  The  metre  and  language  are 
intended  as  imitations  of  those  of  the  earlier  Eddaic  poems. 


246 


HYPATIA. 


"  Well,"  said  Goderic,  "  my  mother  was  an  Alruna 
woman,  so  I  will  not  be  the  bird  to  foul  its  own  nest. 
But  I  like  to  hear  about  wild  beasts  and  ghosts,  ogres, 
and  fire-drakes,  and  nicors,  —  something  that  one  could 
kill  if  one  hud  a  chance,  as  one's  fathers  had." 

"  Your  fathers  would  never  have  killed  nicors,"  said 
VVulf,  "  if  they  had  been " 

"  Like  us,  —  I  know,"  said  the  Amal.  "  Now  tell 
me.  Prince,  you  are  old  enough  to  be  our  father  ;  and 
did  you  ever  see  a  nicor  ?  " 

"  My  brother  saw  one,  in  the  Northern  sea,  three 
fathoms  long,  with  the  body  of  a  bison-bull,  and  the 
head  of  a  cat,  and  the  beard  of  a  man,  and  tusks  an  ell 
long,  lying  down  on  its  breast,  watching  for  the  fisher- 
men ;  and  he  struck  it  with  an  arrow,  so  that  it  fled  to 
the  bottom  of  the  sea,  and  never  came  up  again." 

"  What  is  a,  nicor,  Agilmund  ?  "  asked  one  of  the 
girls. 

"  A  sea-devil,  who  eats  sailors.  There  used  to  be 
plenty  of  them  where  our  fathers  came  from,  and 
ogres,  too,  who  came  out  of  the  fens  into  the  hall  at 
night,  when  the  warriors  were  sleeping,  to  suck  their 
blood,  and  steal  along,  and  steal  along,  and  jump  upoli 
you  —  so  I " 

Pelagla,  during  the  saga,  had  remained  looking  into 
the  fountain,  and  playing  with  the  water-drops,  in  as- 
sumed indifference.  Perhaps  it  was  to  hide  burning 
blushes,  and  something  very  like  two  hot  tears,  which 
fell  unobserved  into  the  ripple.  Now  she  looked  up 
suddenly,  — 

"  And  of  course  you  have  killed  some  of  these  dread- 
ful creatures,  Amalric  ?  " 

"  I  never  had  such  good  luck,  darling.     Our  fore- 


THE    BOWER    OF  ACKASIA.  247 

fathers  were  in  such  a  hurry  with  them,  that  by  the  time 
we  were  born,  there  was  hardly  one  left." 

"  Ay,  they  were  men,"  growled  Wulf. 
.  "  As  for  me,"  went  on  the  Amal,  "the  biggest  thing 
"I  ever  killed  was  a  snake  in  the  Donau  fens.  How  long 
was  he,  Prince  ?  You  had  time  to  see,  for  you  sat  eat- 
ing your  dinner  and  looking  on,  while  he  was  trying  to 
crack  my  bones." 

"  Four  fathom,"  answered  Wulf. 

"  With  a  wild  bull   lying  by  him,  which  he  had  just 
killed.     I  spoilt  his  dinner,  eh,  Wulf?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  old  grumbler,  mollified,  "  that  was 
a  right  good  fight." 

"  Why  don't  you  make  a  saga  about  it,  then,  instead 
of  about  right  and  wrong,  and  such  things  ?  " 

"  Because  I  am  turned  philosopher.     I  shall  go  and 
hear  that  Alruna  maiden  this  afternoon." 

"Well  said.     Let  us  go,   too,   young  men:  it  will 
pass  the  time  at  all  events." 

"  O  no  !  no  !  no  !  do  not !  you  shall  not !  "    almost 
shrieked  Pelagia. 

"  Why  not,  then,  pretty  one  ?  " 
'  "  She  is  a  witch,  —  she —  I  will  never  love  you  a  era  in 
if  you  dare  to  go.     Your  only  reason  is  that  Agilmund"s 
report  of  her  beauty." 

"  So  !  You  are  afraid  of  my  liking  her  golden  locks 
better  than  your  black  ones  ?  " 

"I?  Afraid?"  And  she  leaped  up,  panting  wiih 
pretty  rage.  "  Come,  we  will  go  too,  —  at  once,  —  and 
brave  this  nun,  who  fancies  herself  too  wise  to  speak  to 
a  woman,  and  too  pure  to  love  a  man  !  Look  out  my 
jewels  !  Saddle  my  white  mule  !  We  will  go  royally. 
We  will  not  be  ashamed  of  Cupid's  livery,  my  girls, — 


248  HYPATIA. 

saffron  shawl  and  all !  Come,  and  let  us  see  whether 
saucy  Aphrodite  is  not  a  match  after  all  for  Pallas 
Athene  and  her  owl !  " 

And  she  darted  out  of  the  cloister. 

The  three  younger  men  burst  into  a  roar  of  laughter, 
while  Wulf  looked  with  grim  approval. 

"  So  you  want  to  go  and  hear  the  philosopher. 
Prince  ?  "  said  Smid. 

"  Wheresoever  a  holy  and  a  wise  woman  speaks,  a 
warrior  need  not  be  ashamed  of  listening.  Did  not  Al- 
aric  bid  us  spare  the  nuns  in  Rome,  comrade  ?  And 
though  I  am  no  Christian,  as  he  was,  I  thought  it  no 
shame  for  Odin's  man  to  take  their  blessing  ;  nor  will 
I  to  take  this  one's,  Smid,  son  of  Troll." 


249 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

THE  BOTTOM  OF  THE  ABYSS. 

"  Here  am  T,  at  last ! "  said  Raphael  Aben-Ezra,  to 
himself.  "  Fairly  and  safely  landed  at  the  very  bottom 
of  the  bottomless  ;  disporting  myself  on  the  firm  floor  of 
the  primeval  nothing,  and  finding  my  new  element,  like 
boys  when  they  begin  to  swim,  not  so  impracticable 
after  all.  No  man,  angel,  or  demon,  can  this  day  cast 
it  in  my  teeth  that  I  am  weak  enough  to  believe  or  dis- 
believe any  phenomenon  or  theory  in  or  concerning 
heaven  or  earth  ;  or  even  that  any  such  heaven,  earth, 

phenomena,  or   theories  exist,  —  or  otherwise I 

trust  that  is  a  sufficiently  exhaustive  statement  of  my 
opinions  .^  ....  I  am  certainly  not  dogmatic  enough  to 
deny  —  or  to  assert  either  —  that  there  are  sensations 
....  far  too  numerous  for  comfort  .  .  .  .  but  as  for  pro- 
ceeding any  further,  by  induction,  deduction,  analysis, 
or  synthesis,  I  utterly  decline  the  office  of  Arachne,  and 
will  spin  no  more  cobwebs  out  of  my  own  inside, —  if  I 
have  any.  Sensations  ?  What  are  they,  but  parts  of 
one's  self,  —  if  one  has  a  self .?  What  put  this  child's 
fancy  into  one's  head,  that  there  is  any  thing  outside  of 
one  which  produces  them  ?     You  have  exactly  similar 

VOL.  1.  17 


250  HYPATIA. 

ones  in  your  dreams,  and  you  know  that  there  is  no 
reality  corresponding  to  them.  No,  you  don 't !  How 
dare  you  be  dogmatic  enough  to  affirm  that  ?  Why 
should  not  your  dreams  be  as  real  as  your  waking 
thoughts  ?  Why  should  not  your  dreams  be  the  reality, 
and  your  waking  thoughts  the  dream  ?  What  matter 
which  ? 

"  What  matter,  indeed  ?  Here  have  I  been  staring 
for  years  —  unless,  that,  too,  is  a  dream,  which  it  very 
probably  is  —  at  every  mountebank  'ism'  which  ever 
tumbled  and  capered  on  the  philosopliic  tight-rope  ;  and 
they  are  every  one  of  them  dead  dolls,  wooden,  worked 

with  wires,  which  are  petitiones  pri?icipii Each 

philosopher  begs  the  question  in  hand,  and  then  march- 
es forward,  as  brave  as  a  triumph,  and  prides  himself — 
on  proving  it  all  afterwards.  No  wonder  that  his  theory 
fits  the  universe,  when  he  has  first  clijjped  the  universe 
to  fit  his  theory.  Have  1  not  tried  my  hand  at  many  a 
one, —  starting,  too,  no  one  can  deny,  with  the  very 
minimum  of  clipping,  ....  for  I  suppose  one  cannot 
begin  lower  than  at  simple  'I  am  I'  .  .  .  .  unless  — 
which  is  equally  demonstrable — .at  'I  urn  not  I.'  I 
recollect  —  or  dream  —  that  I  offered  that  sweet 
dream,  Ilypatia,  to  deduce  all  things  in  heaven  and 
earth,  from  the  Astronomies  of  Hipparchus  to  the  num- 
ber of  plumes  in  an  archangel's  wing,  from  that  one 
simple  proposition,  if  she  would  but  write  me  out  a 
demonstration  of  it  first,  as  some  sort  of  nov  o-tco  fonthe 
apex  of  my  inverted  pyramid.  But  she  disdained  .... 
people  are  apt  to  disdain  what  they  know  they  cannot 
do  .  .  .  .  '  It  was  an  axiom,'  it  was,  '  like  one  and  one 
making  two.'  ....  How  cross  the  sweet  dream  was,  at 
my  telling  her  that  I  did  not  consider  that  any  axior» 


THE  BOTTOM  OF  THE  ABYSS.  251 

either,  and  that  one  thing  and  one  thing  seeming  to  us 
to  be  two  things,  was  no  more  proof  that  they  really 
were  two,  and  not  three  hundred  and  sixty-five,  than  a 
man's  seeming  to  be  an  honest  man  proved  him  not  to 
be  a  rogue  ;  and  at  my  asking  her,  moreover,  when  she 
appealed  to  universal  experience,  how  she  proved  that 
the  combined  folly  of  all  fools  resulted  in  wisdom  ? 

"  '  I  am  I '  an  axiom,  indeed  !  What  right  have  I 
to  say  that  I  am  not  any  one  else  ?  How  do  I  know  it? 
How  do  I  know  that  there  is  any  one  else  for  me  not  to 
be  ?  I,  or  rather  something,  feels  a  number  of  sensa- 
tions, longings,  thoughts,  fancies,  —  the  great  Devil  take 
them  all,  —  fresh  ones  every  moment,  and  each  at  war 
tooth  and  nail  with  all  the  rest ;  and  then- on  the  .strength 
of  this  infinite  multiplicity  and  contradiction,  of  which 
alone  I  am  aware,  I  am  to  be  illogical  enough  to  stand 
up,  and  say,  '  I  by  myself  1 ' ;  and  swear  stoutly  that  I 
am  one  thing,  when  all  I  am  conscious  of  is  the  Devil 
only  knows  how  many  things.  Of  all  quaint  deductions 
from  experience,  that  is  the  quaintest !  Would  it  not 
be  more  philosophical  to  conclude  that  I,  who  never  saw 
or  felt  or  heard  this  which  I  call  myself,  am  what  I  have 
seen,  heard,  and  felt,  —  and  no  more  and  no  less, — 
that  sensation  which  I  call  that  horse,  that  dead  man, 
that  jackass,  those  forty  thousand  two-legged  jackasses 
who  appear  to  be  running  for  their  lives  below  there, 
having  got  hold  of  this  same  notion  of  their  being  one 
thing  each,  —  as  I  choose  to  fancy  in  my  foolish  habit 
of  imputing  to  them  the  same  disease  of  thought  which 
I  find  in  myself,  —  crucify  the  word  !  The  folly  of  my 
ancestors  —  if  I  ever  had  any  —  prevents  my   having 

any  better  expression Why  should  I  not  be  all  I 

feel,  —  that  sky,  those  clouds, —  the  whole  universe.? 


252  HYPATIA. 

Hercules  !  what  a  creative  genius  my  sensorium  must 
be  !  I  '11  take  to  writing  poetry,  —  a  mock-epic,  in 
seventy-two  books,  entitled,  'The  Universe;  or,  Ra- 
phael Aben-Ezra'  ;  and  take  Homer's  Margites  for  my 
model.  Homer's  ?  Mine  !  ^Vhy  must  not  the  Margites, 
like  every  thing  else,  have  been  a  sensation  of  my  own  ? 
Hypatia  used  to  say  Homer's  poetry  was  a  part  of  her 
....  only  she  could  not  prove  it ... .  but  I  have  proved 
that  the  Margites  is  a  part  of  me  ....  not  that  I  believe 
my  own  proof,  —  scepticism  forbid  !  O,  would  to  heav- 
en that  the  said  whole  disagreeable  universe  were  anni- 
hilated, if  it  were  only  just  to  settle  by  fair  experiment 
whether  any  of  master  '  I'  remained  when  they  were 
gone  !  Buzzard  and  dogmatist !  And  how  do  you 
know  that  that  would  settle  it?  And  if  it  did  —  why 
need  it  be  settled  ?  .  .  .  . 

"I  dare  say  there  is  an  answer  pat  for  all  this.  I 
could  write  a  pretty  one  myself  in  half  an  hour.  But 
then  I  should  not  believe  it  ...  .  nor  the  rejoinder  to 
that  ....  nor  the  demurrer  to  that  again  ....  So  ...  . 
I  am  both  sleepy  and  hungry  ....  or  rather,  sleepiness 
and  hunger  are  me.  Which  is  it  r  Heigh-ho  .  .  .  .  " 
and  Raphael  finished  his  meditation  by  a  mighty  yawn. 

This  hopeful  oration  was  delivered  in  a  fitting  lecture- 
room.  Between  the  bare  walls  of  a  doleful  fire-scarred 
tower  in  the  Campagna  of  Rome,  standing  upon  a  knoll 
of  dry  brown  grass,  ringed  with  a  few  grim  pines, 
blasted  and  black  with  smoke  ;  there  sat  Raphael  Aben- 
Ezra,  working  out  the  last  formula  of  the  great  world- 
problem, —  "Given  Self;  to  find  God."  Through  the 
doorless  stone  archway  he  could  see  a  long  vista  of  the 
plain  below,  covered  with  broken  trees,  trampled  crops, 
smoking  villas,  and  all  the  ugly  scars  of  recent  war,  far 


THE  BOTTOM  OF  THE  ABYSS.  253 

onward  to  the  quiet  purple  mountains  and  the  silver  sea, 
towards  which  struggled,  far  in  the  distance,  long  dark 
lines  of  moving  specks,  flowing  together,  breaking  up, 
stopping  short,  recoiling  back  to  surge  forward  by  some 
fresh  channel,  while  now  and  then  a  glitter  of  keen 
white  sparks  ran  through  the  dense  black  masses  .... 
The  Count  of  Africa  had  thrown  for  the  empire  of  the 
world  —  and  lost. 

"  Brave  old  Sun  !  "  said  Raphael,  "  how  merrily  he 
flashes  off  the  sword-blades  yonder,  and  never  cares 
that  every  tiny  sparkle  brings  a  death-shriek  after  it ! 
Why  should  he  ?  It  is  no  concern  of  his.  Astrologers 
are  fools.  His  business  is  to  shine  ;  and  on  the  whole, 
he  is  one  of  my  few  satisfactory  sensations.  How  now  ? 
This  is  questionably  pleasant !  " 

As  he  spoke,  a  column  of  troops  came  marching 
across  the  field,  straight  towards  his  retreat. 

"  If  these  new  sensations  of  mine  find  me  here,  they 
will  infallibly  produce  in  me  a  new  sensation,  which 
will  render  all  further  ones  impossible  ....  Well  ? 
What  kinder  thing  could  they  do  for  me  ?  ....  Ay  — 
but  how  do  I  know  that  they  would  do  it  ?  What  pos- 
sible proof  is  there  that  if  a  two-legged  phantasm  pokes 
a  hard  iron-gray  phantasm  in  among  my  sensations, 
those  sensations  will  be  my  last  ?  Is  the  fact  of  my 
turning  pale,  and  lying  still,  and  being  in  a  day  or  two 
converted  into  crow's  flesh,  any  reason  why  I  should 
not  feel  ?  And  how  do  I  know  that  would  happen  ?  I 
see  it  happen  to  certain  sensations  of  my  eyeball,  —  or 
something  else,  —  who  cares  ?  which  I  call  soldiers  ; 
but  what  possible  analogy  can  there  be  between  what 
seems  to  happen  to  those  single  sensations  called  sol- 
diers, and  what  may  or  may  not  really  happen  to  all  my 


254 


HYPATl.A. 


sensations  put  together,  which  I  call  me  ?  Should  I 
bear  apples  if  a  phantasm  seemed  to  come  and  plant 
me  ?  Then  why  should  I  die  if  another  phantasm 
seemed  to  come  and  poke  me  in  the  ribs  ? 

"  Still,  I  don't  intend  to  deny  it  ....  I  am  no  dog- 
matist. Positively  the  phantasms  are  marching  straight 
for  my  tower  !  Well,  it  may  be  safer  to  run  away,  on 
the  chance.  But  as  for  losing  feeling,"  continued  he, 
rising,  and  cramming  a  few  mouldy  crusts  into  his  wal- 
let, "  that,  like  every  thing  else,  is  past  proof.  Why  — 
if  now,  when  I  have  some  sort  of  excuse  for  fancying 
myself  one  thing  in  one  place,  T  am  driven  mad  with 
the  number  of  my  sensations,  what  will  it  be  when  I  am 
eaten,  and  turned  to  dust,  and  undeniably  many  things 
in  many  places  ....  Will  not  the  sensations.be  mul- 
tiplied by  —  unbearable  !  1  would  swear  at  the  thought, 
if  I  had  any  thing  to  swear  by  !  To  be  transmuted  into 
the  sensoria  of  forty  different  nasty  carrion  crows,  be- 
sides two  or  three  foxes,  and  a  large  black-beetle  !  I  '11 
run  away,  just  like  anybody  else  ....  if  anybody  ex- 
isted.    Come,  Bran  !  " 

*  #  *  *  * 

"  Bran  !  where  are  you  ;  unlucky  inseparable  sensa- 
tion of  mine  ?  Picking  up  a  dinner  already  off  these 
dead  soldiers  ?  Well,  the  pity  is  that  this  foolish  con- 
tradictory taste  of  mine,  while  it  makes  me  hungry,  for- 
bids me  to  follow  your  example.  Why  am  I  to  take 
lessons  from  my  soldier-phantasms,  and  not  from  my 
canine  one  ?  Illogical  !  Bran  !  Bran  !  "  and  he  went 
out  and  whistled  in  vain  for  the  dog. 

"  Bran  I  unhappy  phantom,  who  will  not  vanish  by 
night  or  day,  lying  on  my  chest  even  in  dreams  ;  and 
who  would  not  even  let  me  vanish,  and  solve  the  prob- 


THE  BOTTOM  OF  THE  ABYSS.  255 

lem,  —  though  I  don't  believe  there  is  any,  —  why  did  you 
drag  me  out  of  the  sea  there  at  Ostia  ?  Why  did  you 
not  let  me  become  a  whole  shoal  of  crabs  ?  How  did 
you  know,  or  I  either,  that  they  may  not  be  very  jolly 
fellows,  and  not  in  the  least  troubled  with  philosophic 
doubts  ?   .  .  .  .  But  perhaps  there  were  no  crabs,  but 

only  phantasms  of  crabs And,  on  the  other 

hand,  if  the  crab-phantasms  give  jolly  sensations,  why 
should  not  the  crow-phantasms  ?  So  whichever  way  it 
turns  out,  no  matter ;  and  I  may  as  well  wait  here,  and 
seem  to  become  crows,  as  I  certainly  shall  do.  —  Bran  ! 
....  Why  should  I  wait  for  her  ?  What  pleasure  can 
it  be  to  me  to  have  the  feeling  of  a  four-legged,  brin- 
dled, lop-eared,  toad-mouthed  thing  always  between 
what  seem  to  be  my  legs  ?  There  she  is  !  Where 
have  you  been,  madam  ?  Don't  you  see  I  am  in  march- 
ing order,  with  staff  and  wallet  ready  shouldered  ? 
Come  !  " 

But  the  dog,  looking  up  in  his  face  as  only  dogs  can 
look,  ran  toward  the  back  of  the  ruin,  and  up  to  him 
again,  and  back  again,  until  he  followed  her. 

"  What 's  this  ?  Here  is  a  new  sensation  with  a  ven- 
geance !  O  storm  and  crowd  of  material  appearan- 
ces, were  there  not  enough  of  you  already,  that  you 
must  add  to  your  number  these  also  ?  Bran  !  Bran  ! 
Could  you  find  no  other  day  in  the  year  but  this,  where- 
on to  present  my  ears  with  the  squeals  of —  one  —  two 
—  three  —  nine  blind  puppies  .''".... 

Bran  answered  by  rushing  into  the  hole  where  her 
new  family  lay  tumbling  and  squalling,  bringing  out  one 
in  her  mouth,  and  laying  it  at  his  feet. 

"  Needless,  I  assure  you.  I  am  perfectly  aware  of 
the  state  of  the  case  already.     What !  another  ?     Silly 


256  HYPATIA. 

old  thing  !  —  do  you  fancy,  as  the  fine  ladies  do,  that 
burdening  the  world  with  noisy  likenesses  of  your  pre- 
cious self  is  a  thing  of  which  to  be  proud  ?  Why,  she  's 
bringing  out  the  whole  litter !  .  .  .  .  What  was  I  think- 
ing of  last?  Ah  —  the  argument  was  self-contradic- 
tory, was  it,  because  I  could  not  argue  without  using  the 
very  terms  which  I  repudiated.  Well  ....  And  — 
why  should  it  not  be  contradictory  ?  Why  not  ?  One 
must  face  that  too,  after  all.  Why  should  not  a  thing 
be  true,  and  false  also  ?  What  harm  in  a  thing's  being 
false  ?  What  necessity  for  it  to  be  true  ?  True  ? 
What  is  truth  ?  Why  should  a  thing  be  the  worse  for 
being  illogical  ?  Why  should  there  be  any  logic  at  all  ? 
Did  I  ever  see  a  litde  beast  flying  about  with  '  Logic  ' 
labelled  on  its  back  ?  What  do  I  know  of  it,  but  as  a 
sensation  of  my  own  mind, —  if  I  have  any?  What 
proof  is  that  that  I  am  to  obey  it,  and  not  it  me  ?  If  a 
flea  bites  me,  I  get  rid  of  that  sensation  ;  and  if  logic 
bothers  me,  I  '11  get  rid  of  that  too.  Phantasms  must  be 
taught  to  vanish  courteously.  One's  only  hope  of  com- 
,fort  lies  in  kicking  feebly  against  the  tyranny  of  one's 
own  boring  notions  and  sensations,  —  every  philosopher 
confesses  that,  —  and  what  god  is  logic,  pray,  that  it  is 
to  be  the  sole  exception  ?  .  .  .  .  What,  old  lady  ?  I 
give  you  fair  warning,  you  must  choose  this  day,  like 
any  nifn,  between  the  ties  of  family  and  those  of  duty." 

Bran  seized  him  by  the  skirt,  and  pulled  him  down 
towards  the  puppies  ;  took  up  one  of  the  puppies  and 
lifted  it  towards  him  ;  and  then  repeated  the  action  with 
another. 

"  You  unconscionable  old  brute  ;  you  don't  actually 
dare  to  expect  me  to  carry  your  puppies  for  you  ?  "  and 
he  turned  to  go. 


THE  BOTTOM  OF  THE  ABYSS.         257 

Bran  sat  down  on  her  tail,  and  began  howling. 

"  Farewell,  old  dog  !  you  have  been  a  pleasant  dream 
after  all But  if  you  will  go  the  way  of  all  phan- 
tasms "  .  .  .  .  And  he  walked  away. 

Bran  ran  with  him,  leaping  and  barking  ;  then  recol- 
lected her  family  and  ran  back  ;  tried  to  bring  them, 
one  by  one,  in  her  mouth,  and  then  to  bring  them  all  at 
once  ;  and  failing,  sat  down  and  howled. 

"  Come,  Bran  !     Come,  old  girl !  " 

She  raced  half-way  up  to  him  ;  then  half-way  back 
again  to  the  puppies ;  then  towards  him  again ;  and 
then  suddenly  gave  it  up,  and  dropping  her  tail,  walked 
slowly  back  to  the  blind  suppliants,  with  a  deep,  re- 
proachful growl. 

u  *****  I "  gg^ij  Raphael,  with  a  mighty  oath ; 

"  you  are  right  after  all !  Here  are  nine  things  come 
into  the  world  ;  phantasms  or  not,  there  it  is ;  I  can't 
deny  it.  They  are  something,  and  you  are  something, 
old  dog  ;  or  at  least  like  enough  to  something  to  do  in- 
stead of  it ;  and  you  are  not  I,  and  as  good  as  I,  and 
they  too,  for  aught  I  know,  and  have  as  good  a  right  to 
live  as  I ;  and  by  the  seven  planets  and  all  the  rest  of 
it,  I  '11  carry  them  !  " 

And  he  went  back,  tied  up  the  puppies  in  his  blanket, 
and  set  forth.  Bran  barking,  squeaking,  wagging,  leap- 
ing, running  between  his  legs  and  upsetting  him,  in  her 
agonies  of  joy. 

"  Forward  !  Whither  you  will,  old  lady  !  The  world 
is  wide.  You  shall  be  my  guide,  tutor,  queen  of  philos- 
ophy, for  the  sake  of  this  mere  common  sense  of  yours. 
Forward,  you  new  Hypatia!  I  promise  you  I  will  at- 
tend no  lectures  but  yours  this  day  !  " 

He  toiled  on,  every  now  and  then  stepping  across  a 


258  iivrATiA. 

dead  body,  or  clambering  a  wall  out  of  the  road,  to 
avoid  some  plunging,  shrieking  horse,  or  obscene  knot 
of  prowling  camp-followers,  who  were  already  stripping 

and   phmdcring  the    slain At  last,  in  front  of  a 

large  villa,  now  a  black  and  smoking  skeleton,  he 
leaped  the  wall,  and  found  himself  landed  on  a  heap  of 

corpses They  were  piled  up  against  the  garden 

fence  for  many  yards.  The  struggle  had  been  fierce 
there  some  three  hours  before. 

"  Put  me  out  of  my  misery  !  In  mercy  kill  me  !  " 
moaned  a  voice  beneath  his  feet. 

Raphael  looked  down  ;  the  poor  wretch  was  slashed 
and  mutilated  beyond  all  hope. 

"  Certainly,  friend,  if  you  wish  it,"  and  he  drew  his 
dagger.  The  poor  fellow  stretched  out  his  throat,  and 
awaited  the  stroke  with  a  ghastly  smile.  Raphael 
caught  his  eye  ;  his  heart  failed  him,  and  he  rose. 

"  What  do  you  advise.  Bran  .'  "  But  the  dog  was 
far  ahead,  leaping  and  barking  impatiently. 

"  I  obey,"  said  Raphael ;  and  he  followed  her,  while 
the  wounded  man  called  piteously  and  upbraid ingly 
after  him. 

"  He  will  not  have  long  to  wait.     Those  plunderers 

will    not  be   as   squeamish    as    I Strange,    now! 

From  Armenian  reminiscences  I  should  have  fancied 
myself  as  free  from  such  tender  weakness  as  any  of  my 

Canaanite-slaying   ancestors And   yet,    by    some 

mere  spirit  of  contradiction,  I  could  n't  kill  that  fellow, 

exactly   because  he  asked  me  to  do  it There  is 

more  in  that  than  will  fit  into  the  great  inverted  pyramid 
of  '  I  am  I.'  .  .  .  .  Never  mind,  let  me  get  the  dog's 
lessons  by  heart  first.  What  next,  Bran  ?  Ah  !  could 
one  believe  the  transformation  ?     Why,  this  is  the  very 


THE  BOTTOM  OF  THE  ABYSS.  259 

trim  villa  which  I  passed  yesterday  morning,  with  the 
garden  chairs  standing  among  the  flower-beds,  just  as 
the  young  ladies  had  left  them,  and  the  peacocks  and 
silver  pheasants  running  about,  wondering  why  their 
pretty  mistresses  did  not  come  to  feed  them.  And  here 
is  a  trampled  mass  of  wreck  and  corruption  for  the  girls 
to  find,  when  they  venture  back  from  Rome,  and  com- 
plain how  horrible  war  is  for  breaking  down  all  their 
shrubs,  and  how  cruel  soldiers  must  be  to  kill  and  cook 
all  their  poor  dear  tame  turtle-doves  !  Why  not  ?  Why 
should  they  lament  over  other  things  —  which  they  can  just 
as  little  mend,  —  and  which,  perhaps  need  no  more  mend- 
ing ?  Ah  !  there  lies  a  gallant  fellow  underneath  that 
fruit-tree !  " 

Raphael  walked  up  to  a  ring  of  dead,  in  the  midst  of 
which  lay,  half  sitting  against  the  trunk  of  the  tree, 
tall  and  noble  oflicer,  in  the  first  bloom  of  manhood. 
His  casque  and  armor,  gorgeously  inlaid  with  gold, 
were  hewn  and  battered  by  a  hundred  blows  ;  his  shield 
was  cloven  through  and  through  ;  his  sword  broken  in 
the  stiffened  hand  which  grasped  it  still.  Cut  off"  from 
his  troop,  he  had  made  his  last  stand  beneath  the  tree, 
knee-deep  in  the  gay  summer  flowers,  and  there  he  lay, 
bestrewn,  as  if  by  some  mockery  —  or  pity  —  of  moth- 
er nature,  with  faded  roses,  and  golden  fruit,  shaken 
from  off"  the  boughs  in  that  last  deadly  struggle,  Ra- 
phael stood  and  watched  him  with  a  sad  sneer. 

"  Well !  —  you  have  sold  your    fancied    personality 

dear !     How    many    dead    men  ? Nine 

Eleven  !  Conceited  fellow  !  Who  told  you  that  your 
one  life  was  worth  the  eleven  which  you  have  taken  ?  " 

Bran  went  up  to  the  corpse, —  perhaps  from  its  sit- 


260  HYPATIA. 

ting  posture  fancying  it  still  living,  —  smelt  the  cold 
cheek,  and  recoiled  with  a  mournful  whine. 

"  Eh  ?     That  is  the  right  way  to  look  at  the  phenom- 

enon,  is  it  ?     Well,  after  all,  I  am  sorry  for  you 

almost  like  you All  your  wounds  in  front,  as  a 

man's  should  be.  Poor  fop  !  Lais  and  Thais  will 
never  curl  those  dainty  ringlets  for  you  again !  What 
is  that  bas-relief  upon  your  shield  ?     Venus  receiving 

Psyche    into   the  abode  of  the  gods ! Ah  !    you 

have  found  out  all  about  Psyche's  wings  by  this  time. 

How  do  I  know  that  ?     And  yet,  why  am  I,  in 

spite  of  my  common  sense,  —  if  I  have  any,  —  talking 
to  you  as  you,  and  liking  you,  and  pitying  you,  if  you 
are  nothing  now,  and  probably  never  were  any  thing  ? 
Bran  !  What  right  had  you  to  pity  him  without  giving 
your  reasons  in  due  form,  as  Hypatia  would  have  done  ? 
Forgive  me,  sir,  however,  —  whether  you  exist  or  not, 
I  cannot  leave  that  collar  round  your  neck  for  these 
camp-wolves  to  convert  into  strong  liquor." 

And  as  he  spoke,  he  bent  down,  and  detached,  gen- 
tly enough,  a  magnificent  necklace. 

"  Not  for  myself,  I  assure  you.  Like  Ate's  golden 
apple,  it  shall  go  to  the  fairest.     Here,  Bran  !  " 

And  he  wreathed  the  jewels  round  the  neck  of  the 
mastiff,  who,  evidently  exalted  in  her  own  eyes  by  the 
burden,  leaped  and  barked  forward  again,  taking, 
apparently  as  a  matter  of  course,  the  road  back  towards 
Ostia,  by  which  they  had  come  thither  from  the  sea. 
And  as  he  followed,  careless  where  he  went,  he  con- 
tinued talking  to  himself  aloud,  after  the  manner  of  rest- 
less, self-discontented  men. 

"  And   then  man  talks  big  about  his  dignity 

and  his  intellect,  and  his  heavenly  parentage,  and  his 


THE  BOTTOM  OF  THE  ABYSS.  261 

aspirations  after  the  unseen  and  the  beautiful,  and  the 
infinite, —  and  every  thing  else  unlike  himself.  How- 
can  he  prove  it  ?  Why,  these  poor  blackguards  lying 
about  are  very  fair  specimens  of  humanity.  And  how 
much  have  they  been  bothered  since  they  were  born 
with  aspirations  after  any  thing  infinite,  except  infinite 
sour  wine  ?  To  eat,  to  drink  ;  to  destroy  a  certain 
number  of  their  species  ;  to  reproduce  a  certain  num- 
ber of  the  same,  two  thirds  of  whom  will  die  in  infancy, 
a  dead  waste  of  pain  to  their  mothers,  and  of  expense  to 

their   putative    sires and    then what   says 

Solomon  ?  What  befalls  them  befalls  beasts.  As  one 
dies,  so  dies  the  other  ;  so  that  they  have  all  one  breath, 
and  a  man  has  no  preeminence  over  a  beast;  for  all 
is  vanity.  All  go  to  one  place  ;  all  are  of  the  dust, 
and  turn  to  dust  again.  Who  knows  that  the  breath  of 
man  goes  upward,  and  that  the  breath  of  the  beast  goes 
downward  to  the  earth  ?  Who  indeed,  my  most  wise 
ancestor  ?  Not  I,  certainly.  Raphael  Aben-Ezra,  how 
art  thou  better  than  a  beast  ?  What  preeminence  hast 
thou,  not  merely  over  this  dog,  but  over  the  fleas  whom 
thou    so    wantonly   cursest  ?     Man  must  painfully  win 

house,  clothes,  fire A  pretty  proof  of  his  wisdom, 

when  every  flea  has  the  wit  to  make  my  blanket,  with- 
out any  labor  of  his  own,  lodge  him  a  great  deal  better 
than  it  lodges  me  !     Man  makes  clothes,  and  the  fleas 

live  in  them Which  is  the  wiser  of  the  two  ? 

"  Ah,  but  —  man  is  fallen Well  —  and  the  flea 

is  not.  So  much  better  he  than  the  man  ;  for  he  is 
what  he  was  intended  to  be,  and  so  fulfils  the  very  defini- 
tion of  virtue which  no  one  can  say  of  us  of  the 

red-ochre  vein.  And  even  if  the  old  myth  be  true,  and 
the  man  only  fell,  because  he  was  set  to    do   higher 


262  HYPATIA, 

work  than  the  flea  —  What  does  that  prove  —  but  that 
he  could  not  do  it  ? 

"  But  his  arts  and  his  sciences  ? Apage !     The 

very  sound  of  those  grown  children's  rattles  turns  me 

sick One  conceited  ass  in  a  generation  increasing 

labor  and  sorrow,  and  dying  after  all  even  as  the  fool 
dies,  and  ten  million  brutes  and  slaves,  just  where  their 
forefathers  were,  and  where  their  children  will  be  after 

them,  to  the  end  of  the  farce The  thing  that  has 

been,  it  is  that  which  shall  be  ;  and  there  is  no  new 
thing  under  the  sun 

"  And  as  for  your  palaces,  and  cities,  and  temples 

look  at  this  Campagna,  and  judge  !     Flea-bites 

go  down  after  a  while —  and  so  do  they.  What  are  they 
but  the  bumps  which  we  human  fleas  make  in  the  old 

earth's    skin? Make    them?       We    only   cause 

them,  as  fleas  cause  flea-bites What  are  all  the 

works  of  man,  but  a  sort  of  cutaneous  disorder  in  this 
unhealthy  earth-hide,  and  we  a  race  of  larger  fleas,  run- 
ning about  among  its  fur,  which  we  call  trees  ?  Why 
should  not  the  earth  be  an  animal  ?  How  do  I  know  it 
is  not  ?  Because  it  is  too  big  ?  Bah  !  What  is  big, 
and  what   is  little  ?     Because  it  has  not  the  shape  of 

one  ? Look  into  a  fisherman's  net,  and  see  what 

forms  are  there  !     Because  it  does  not  speak  ? 

Perhaps  it  has  nothing  to  say,  being  too  busy.     Perhaps 

it  can  talk  no  more  sense  than  we In  both  cases 

it  shows    its  wisdom  by  holding  its  tongue.     Because  it 

moves    in    one  necessary  direction  ? How  do  I 

know  that  it  does  ?  Flow  can  I  tell  that  it  is  not  flirting 
with  all  the  seven  spheres  at  once,  at  this  moment? 
But  if  it  does —  so  much  the  wiser  of  it,  if  that  be  the 
best   direction    for   it.     O,  what  a  base  satire  on  our- 


THE  BOTTOM  OF  THE  ABYSS.  263 

selves  and  our  notions  of  the  fair  and  fitting,  to  say  that 
a  thing  cannot  be  alive  and  rational,  just  because  it  goes 
steadily  on  upon  its  own  road,  instead  of  skipping  and 
scrambling  fantastically  up  and  down  without  method 
or  order,  like  us  and  the  fleas,  from  the  cradle  to  the 
grave  !  Besides,  if  you  grant,  with  the  rest  of  the 
world,  that  fleas  are  less  noble  than  we,  because  they 
are  our  parasites,  then  you  are  bound  to  grant  that  we 
are  less  noble  than  the  earth,  because  we  are  its  para- 
sites  Positively,  it  looks   more  probable  than  any 

thing  I  have  seen  for  many  a  day And,  by  the  by, 

why  should  not  earthquakes,  and  floods,  and  pestilences, 
be  only  just  so  many  ways  which  the  cunning  old  brute 
earth  has  of  scratching  herself,  when  the  human  fleas 
and  their  palace  and  city  bites  get  too  troublesome  ?  " 

At  a  turn  of  the  road  he  was  aroused  from  this  profit- 
able meditation  by  a  shriek,  the  shrillness  of  which  told 
him  that  it  was  a  woman's.  He  looked  up,  and  saw 
close  to  him,  among  the  smouldering  ruins  of  a  farm- 
house, two  ruffians,  driving  before  them  a  young  girl, 
with  her  hands  tied  behind  her,  while  the  poor  creature 
was  looking  back  piteously  after  something  among  the 
ruins,  and  struggling  in  vain,  bound  as  she  was,  to  es- 
cape from  her  captors,  and  return. 

"  Conduct  unjustifiable  in  any  fleas,  —  eh,  Bran  .'' 
How  do  I  know  that,  though  ?  Why  should  it  not  be  a 
piece  of  excellent  fortune  for  her,  if  she  had  but  the 
equanimity  to  see  it  ?  Why,  what  will  happen  to 
her  ?  She  will  be  taken  to  Rome,  and  sold  as  a  slave. 
....  And,  in  spite  of  a  few  discomforts  in  the  transfer, 
and  the  prejudice  which  some  persons  have  against 
standing  an  hour  on  the  catasta  to  be  handled  from  head 
to  foot  in  the  minimum  of  clothing,  she  will  most  prob- 


264    .  HYPATIA. 

ably  end  in  being  far  better  housed,  fed,  bedizened,  and 
pampered  to  her  heart's  desire,  than  ninety-nine  out  of 
a  hundred  of  lier  sister  fleas  ....  till  she  begins  to  grow 

old  ....  which  she  must  do  in  any  case And  if 

she  have  not  contrived  to  wheedle  her  master  out  of  her 
liberty,  and  to  make  up  a  pretty  little  purse  of  savings, 
by  that  time,  —  why,  it  is  her  ovirn  fault.     Eh,  Bran  ?  " 

But  Bran  by  no  means  agreed  with  his  view  of  the 
case  ;  for,  after  watching  the  two  ruffians,  with  her  head 
stuck  on  one  side,  for  a  minute  or  two,  she  suddenly  and 
silently,  after  the  manner  of  mastiffs,  sprang  upon  them, 
and  dragged  one  to  the  ground. 

"  O,  that  is  the  '  fit  and  beautiful,'  in  this  case,  as 
they  say  in  Alexandria,  is  it  ?  Well,  I  obey.  You 
are  at  least  a  more  practical  teacher  than  ever  Hypatia 
was.  Heaven  grant  that  there  may  be  no  more  of  them 
in  the  ruins  !  " 

And,  rushing  on  the  second  plunderer,  he  laid  him 
dead  with  a  blow  of  his  dagger,  and  then  turned  to  the 
first,  whom  Bran  was  holding  down  by  the  throat. 

"  Mercy,  mercy  !  "  shrieked  the  wretch.  "  Life  ! 
only  life!" 

"  There  was  a  fellow  half  a  mile  back  begging  me  to 
kill  him  :  with  which  of  you  two  am  I  to  agree  ?  —  for 
you  can't  both  be  right." 

"  Life  !     Only  life  ! " 

"  A  carnal  appetite,  which  man  must  learn  to  con- 
quer," said  Raphael,  as  he  raised  the  poniard In 

a  moment  it  was  over,  and  Bran  and  he  rose.  —  Where 
was  the  girl  ?  She  had  rushed  back  to  the  ruins,  whither 
Raphael  followed  her  ;  while  Bran  ran  to  the  puppies, 
which  he  had  laid  upon  a  stone,  and  commenced  her 
maternal  cares. 


THE  BOTTOM  OF  THE  ABYSS.  265 

"  What  do  you  want,  my  poor  girl  ?  "  asked  he,  in 
Latin.     "  I  will  not  hurt  you." 

"  My  father  !     My  father  !  " 

He  untied  her  bruised  and  swollen  wrists  ;  and,  with- 
out stopping  to  thank  him,  she  ran  to  a  heap  of  fallen 
stones  and  beartis,  and  began  digging  wildly  with  all  her 
little  strength,  breathlessly  calling,  "  Father  ! " 

"  Such  is  the  gratitude  of  flea  to  flea  !  What  is 
there,  now,  in  the  mere  fact  of  being  accustomed  to  call 
another  person  father,  and  not  master,  or  slave,  which 
should  produce  such  passion  as  that  ?  .  .  .  .  Brute  habit ! 
....  What  services  can  the  said  man  render,  or  have 

rendered,  which   make   him  worth Here  is  Bran  ! 

....   What    do  you   think  of  that,   my  female   phi- 


er 


J  " 


losoph 

Bran  sat  down  and  watched  too.  The  poor  girl's 
tender  hands  were  bleeding  from  the  stones,  while  her 
golden  tresses  rolled  down  over  her  eyes,  and  entangled 
in  her  impatient  fingers  :  but  still  she  worked  frantically. 
Bran  seemed  suddenly  to  comprehend  the  case,  rushed 
to  the  rescue,  and  began  digging  too,  with  all  her 
might. 

Raphael  rose  with  a  shrug,  and  joined  in  the  work. 
*  *  *  # 

"  Hang  these  brute  instincts  !  They  make  one  very 
hot.     What  was  that  ?  " 

A  feeble  moan  rose  from  under  the  stones.  A  hu- 
man limhwas  uncovered.  The  girl  threw  herself  on 
the  place,  shrieking  her  father's  name.  Raphael  put 
her  gently  back,  and,  exerting  his  whole  strength,  drew 
out  of  the  ruins  a  stalwart  elderly  man,  in  the  dress  of 
an  officer  of  high  rank. 

He  still  breathed.     The  girl  lifted  up  his  head  and 

VOL.   I.  18 


266  HYPATIA. 

covered  him  with  wild  kisses.  Raphael  looked  round 
for  water  ;  found  a  spring  and  a  broken  sherd,  and 
bathed  the  wounded  man's  temples  till  he  opened  his 
eyes,  and  showed  signs  "of  returning  life. 

The  girl  still  sat  by  him,  fondling  her  recovered 
treasure,  and  bathing  the  grizzled  face  in  holy  tears. 

"  It  is  no  business  of  mine,"  said  Raphael.  "  Copne, 
Bran  !  " 

The  girl  sprang  up,  threw  herself  at  his  feet,  kissed 
his  hands,  called  him  her  saviour,  her  deliverer,  sent  by 
God. 

"  Not  in  the  least,  my  child.  You  must  thank  my 
teacher,  the  dog,  not  me." 

And  she  took  him  at  his  word,  and  threw  her  soft 
arms  round  Bran's  neck  ;  and  Bran  understood  it,  and 
wagged  her  tail,  and  licked  the  gentle  face  lovingly. 

"  Intolerably  absurd,  all  this  !  "  said  Raphael.  "  I 
must  be  going.  Bran." 

"  You  will  not  leave  us  ?  You  surely  will  not  leave 
an  old  man  to  die  here  ?  " 

"  Why  not  ?  What  better  thing  could  happen  to 
him  ? " 

"  Nothing,"  murmured  the  officer,  who  had  not 
spoken  before. 

"  Ah  God  !  he  is  my  father  !  " 

"  Well .?  " 

"  He  is  my  father  !  " 

"  Well  ?  " 

"  You  must  save  him  !  You  shall,  I  say  !  "  And 
she  seized  Raphael's  arm  in  the  imperiousness  of  her 
passion. 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  :  but  felt,  he  knew  not 
why,  marvellously  inclined  to  obey  her. 


THE  B0TT03I  OF  THE  ABYSS.  267 

"  I  may  as  well  do  this  as  any  thing  else,  having 
nothing  else  to  do.     Whither  now,  sir  ?  " 

"  Whither  you  will.  Our  troops  are  disgraced,  our 
eagles  taken.  We  are  your  prisoners  by  right  of  war. 
We  follow  you." 

"  O  my  fortune  !  A  new  responsibility  !  Why  can- 
not I  stir,  without  live  animals,  from  fleas  upward,  at- 
taching themselves  to  me  .''  Is  it  not  enough  to  have 
nine  blind  puppies  at  my  back,  and  an  old  brute  at  my 
heels,  who  will  persist  in  saving  my  life,  that  I  must  be 
burdened  over  and  above  with  a  respectable  elderly  rebel 
and  his  daughter .'  Why  am  I  not  allowed  by  fate  to 
care  for  nobody  but  myself?  Sir,  I  give  you  both 
your  freedom.  The  world  is  wide  enough  for  us  all. 
I  really  ask  no  ransom." 

"  You  seem  philosophically  disposed,  my  friend." 

"  I  ?  Heaven  forbid  !  I  have  gone  right  through 
that  slough,  and  come  out  sheer  on  the  other  side.  For 
sweeping  the  last  lingering  taint  of  it  out  of  me,  I  have 
to  thank,  not  sulphur  and  exorcisms,  but  your  soldiers 
and  their  morning's  work.  Philosophy  is  superfluous  in 
a  world  where  all  are  fools." 

"  Do  you  include  yourself  under  that  title  ?  " 

"  Most  certainly,  my  best  sir.  Don't  fancy  that  I 
make  any  exceptions.  If  I  can  in  any  way  prove  my 
folly  to  you,  I  will  do  it." 

"  Then  help  me  and  my  daughter  to  Ostia." 

"A  very  fair  instance.  Well,  —  my  dog  happens  to 
be  going  that  way  ;  and,  after  all,  you  seem  to  have  a 
sufficient  share  of  human  imbecility  to  be  a  very  fit 
companion  for  me.  I  hope,  though,  you  do  not  set  up 
for  a  wise  man  ?  " 

"  God  knows  —  no !    Am  I  not  of  Heraclian's  army  ?  " 


268  HYPATIA. 

"  True  ;  and  the  young  lady,  here,  made  herself  so 
great  a  fool  about  you,  that  she  actually  infected  the 
very  dog." 

"  So  we  three  fools  will  forth  together." 

"And  the  greatest  one,  as  usual,  must  help  the  rest. 
But  I  have  nine  puppies  in  my  family  already.  How 
am  I  to  carry  you  and  them  ?  " 

"  I  will  take  them,"  said  the  girl ;  and  Bran,  after 
looking  on  at  the  transfer  with  a  somewhat  dubious  face, 
seemed  to  satisfy  herself  that  all  was  right,  and  put  her 
head  contentedly  under  the  girl's  hand. 

"  Eh  ?  You  trust  her,  Bran  .?  "  said  Raphael,  in  an 
undertone.  "  I  must  really  emancipate  myself  from 
your  instructions  if  you  require  a  similar  simplicity  in 
me.  Stay  !  there  wanders  a  mule  without  a  rider  ;  we 
may  as  well  press  him  into  the  service." 

He  caught  the  mule,  lifted  the  wounded  man  into  the 
saddle,  and  the  cavalcade  set  forth,  turning  out  of  the 
high-road  into  a  by-lane,  which  the  officer,  who  seemed 
to  know  the  country  thoroughly,  assured  him  would  lead 
them  to  Ostia  by  an  unfrequented  route. 

"  If  we  arrive  there  before  sundown,  we  are  saved," 
said  he. 

"  And  in  the  mean  time,"  answered  Raphael,  "  be- 
tween the  dog  and  this  dagger,  which,  as  I  take  care  to 
inform  all  comers,  is  delicately  poisoned,  we  may  keep 
ourselves  clear  of  marauders.  And  yet  what  a  med- 
dling fool  I  am  !  "  he  went  on  to  himself.  "  What  pos- 
sible interest  can  I  have  in  this  uncircumcised  rebel  ? 
The  least  evil  is,  that  if  we  arc  taken,  which  we  most 
probably  shall  be,  I  shall  be  crucified  for  helping  him  to 
escape.  But  even  if  we  get  safe  off,  —  here  is  a  fresh 
tie  between  me  and  those  very  brother  fleas,  to  be  rid 


THE  BOTTOM  OF  THE  ABYSS. 


269 


of  whom  I  have  chosen  beggary  and  stan-ation.  Who 
knows  where  it  may  end  ?  Pooh  !  The  man  is  hke 
other  men.  He  is  certain,  before  the  day  is  over,  to 
prove  ungrateful,  or  attempt  the  mountebank-heroic,  or 
give  me  some  other  excuse  for  bidding  him  good  even- 
ing. And  in  the  mean  time,  there  is  something  quaint 
in  the  fact  of  finding  so  sober  a  respectabihty,  with  a 
young  daughter  too,  abroad  on  this  fool's  errand,  which 
really  makes  me  curious  to  discover  with  what  variety 
of  flea  I  am  to  class  him." 

But  while  Aben-Ezra  was  talking  to  himself  about  the 
father,  he  coiTld  not  help,  somehow,  thinking  about  the 
daughter.  Again  and  again  he  found  himself  looking 
at  her.  She  was,  undeniably,  most  beautiful.  Her 
features  were  not  as  regularly  perfect  as  Hypatia's,  nor 
her  stature  so  commanding  ;  but  her  face  shone  with  a 
clear  and  joyful  determination,  and  with  a  tender  and 
modest  thoughtfulness,  such  as  he  had  never  beheld  be- 
fore united  in  one  countenance  ;  and  as  she  stepped 
along,  firmly  and  lightly,  by  her  father's  side,  looping 
up  her  scattered  tresses  as  she  went,  laughing  at  the 
struggles  of  her  noisy  burden,  and  looking  up  with  rap- 
ture at  her  father's  gradually  brightening  face,  Raphael 
could  not  help  stealing  glance  after  glance,  and  was 
surprised  to  find  them  returned  with  a  bright,  honest, 
smiling  gratitude,  which  met  him  full-eyed,  as  free  from 
prudery  as  it  was  from  coquetry.  ..."  A  lady  she  is," 
said  he  to  himself,  "  but  evidently  no  city  one.  There 
is  nature,  or  something  else,  there,  pure  and  unadul- 
terated, without  any  of  man's  additions  or  beautifica- 
tions."  And  as  he  looked  he  began  to  feel  it  a  pleas- 
ure, such  as  his  weary  heart  had  not  known  for  many  a 
year,  simply  to  watch  her 


270  HYPATIA. 

"  Positively  there  is  a  foolish  enjoyment  after  all  in 
making  other  fleas  smile.  .  .  .  Ass  that  I  am  !  As  if  I 
had  not  drank  all  that  ditch-water  cup  to  the  dregs 
years  ago  !  " 

They  went  on  for  some  time  in  silence,  till  the  officer, 
turning  to  him,  — 

"  And  may  I  ask  you,  my  quaint  preserver,  whom  I 
would  have  thanked  before  but  for  this  foolish  faintness, 
which  is  now  going  off,  what  and  who  you  are  ?  " 

"  A  flea,  sir,  —  a  flea,  —  nothing  more." 

"  But  a  patrician  flea,  surely ;  to  judge  by  your  lan- 
guage and  manners  ?  " 

"  Not  that  exactly.  True,  I  have  been  rich,  as  the 
saying  is;  I  may  be  rich  again,  they  tell  me,  when  I 
am  fool  enough  to  choose." 

"  O  if  we  were  but  rich  !  "  sighed  the  girl. 

"  You  would  be  very  unhappy,  my  dear  young 
lady.  Believe  a  flea  who  has  tried  the  experiment 
thoroughly." 

"  Ah !  but  we  could  ransom  my  brother  !  and  now 
we  can  find  no  money  till  we  get  back  to  Africa." 

"  And  none  then,"  said  the  officer,  in  a  low  voice. 
"  You  forget,  my  poor  child,  that  I  mortgaged  the  whole 
estate  to  raise  my  legion.  We  must  not  shrink  from 
looking  at  things  as  they  are." 

"  Ah  !  and  he  is  prisoner  !  he  will  be  sold  for  a  slave, 
—  perhaps  —  ah!  perhaps  crucified,  for  he  is  not  a 
Roman  !  O,  he  will  be  crucified  ! "  and  she  burst 
into  an  agony  of  weeping.  .  .  .  Suddenly  she  dashed 
away  her  tears,  and  looked  up  clear  and  bright  once 
more.  "  No  !  forgive  me,  father  !  God  will  protect 
his  own  !  " 

"  My  dear  young  lady,"  said  Raphael,  "  if  you  really 


THE  BOTTOBI  OF  THE  ABYSS.  271 

dislike  such  a  prospect  for  your  brother,  and  are  in  want 
of  a  few  dirty  coins  wherewith  to  prevent  it,  perhaps  I 
may  be  able  to  find  you  them  in  Ostia." 

She  looked  at  him  incredulously,  as  her  eye  glanced 
over  his  rags,  and  then,  blushing,  begged  his  pardon 
for  her  unspoken  thoughts. 

"Well,  —  as  you  choose  to  suppose.  But  niy  dog 
has  been  so  civil  to  you  already,  that  perhaps  she  may 
have  no  objection  to  make  you  a  present  of  that  neck- 
lace of  hers.  I  will  go  to  the  Rabbis,  and  we  will  make 
all  right ;  so  don't  cry.  I  hate  crying ;  and  the  pup- 
pies are  quite  chorus  enough  for  the  present  trage- 
dy." 

"  The  Rabbis  ?     Are  you  a  Jew  ?  "  asked  the  officer. 

"  Yes,  sir,  a  Jew.  And  you,  I  presume,  a  Christian  : 
perhaps  you  may  have  scruples  about  receiving  —  your 
sect  has  generally  none  about  taking  —  from  one  of 
our  stubborn  and  unbelieving  race.  Don't  be  fright- 
ened, though,  for  your  conscience  ;  I  assure  you  I  am 
no  more  a  Jew  at  heart  than  I  am  a  Christian." 

"  God  help  you,  then  !  " 

"  Some  one,  or  something,  has  helped  me  a  great 
deal  too  much,  for  three-and-thirty  years  of  pampering. 
But,  pardon  me,  that  was  a  strange  speech  for  a  Chris- 
tian." 

"  You  must  be  a  good  Jew,  sir,  before  you  can  be  a 
good  Christian." 

"  Possibly.  I  intend  to  be  neither,  —  nor  a  good  Pa- 
gan either.  My  dear  sir,  let  us  drop  the  subject.  It  is 
beyond  me.  If  I  can  be  as  good  a  brute  animal  as  my 
dog  there,  —  it  being  first  demonstrated  that  it  is  good 
to  be  good,  —  I  shall  be  very  well  content." 

The  officer  looked  down  on  him  with  a  stately,  lov- 


272 


HYPATIA. 


ing  sorrow.     Raphael  caught  his  eye,  and   felt  that  he 
was  in  the  presence  of  no  common  man. 

"  I  must  take  care  what  I  say  here,  I  suspect,  or  I 
shall  be  entangled  shortly  in  a  regular  Socratic  dialogue. 
....  And  now,  sir,  may  I  return  your  question,  and 
ask  who  and  what  are  you  ?  I  really  have  no  intention 
of  giving  you  up  to  any  Ciusar,  Antiochus,  Tiglath- 
Pileser,  or  other  flea-devouring  flea  ....  They  will 
fatten  well  enough  without  your  blood.  So  I  only  ask 
as  a  student  of  the  great  nothing-in-general,  which  men 
call  the  universe." 

"  I  was  prefect  of  a  legion  this  morning.  What  I  am 
now,  you  know  as  well  as  I." 

"  Just  what  I  do  not.  I  am  in  deep  wonder  at  seeing 
your  hilarity,  when,  by  all  flea-analogies,  you  ought  to 
be  either  behowling  your  fate  like  Achilles  on  the  shores 
of  Styx,  or  pretending  to  grin  and  bear  it,  as  I  was 
taught  to  do  when  I  played  at  Stoicism.  You  are  not 
of  that  sect  certainly,  for  you  confessed  yourself  a  fool 
just  now." 

"  And  it  would  be  long,  would  it  not,  before  you 
made  one  of  them  do  as  much  ?  Well,  be  it  so.  A 
fool  I  am  ;  yet,  if  God  helps  us  as  far  as  Ostia,  why 
should  I  not  be  cheerful  ?  " 

"  Why  should  you  ?  " 

"  What  better  thing  can  happen  to  a  fool,  than  that 
God  should  teach  him  that  he  is  one,  when  he  fancied 
himself  the  wisest  of  the  wise  ?  Listen  to  me,  sir.  Four 
months  ago  I  was  blessed  with  health,  honor,  lands, 
friends,  —  all  for  which  the  heart  of  man  could  wish. 
And  if,  for  an  insane  ambition,  I  have  chosen  to  risk  all 
those,  against  the  solemn  warnings  of  the  truest  friend, 
and  the  wisest  saint,  who  treads  this  earth  of  God's, — 


THE  BOTTOM  OF  THE  ABYSS.  273 

should  I  not  rejoice  to  have  it  proved  to  me,  even  by- 
such  a  lesson  as  this,  that  the  friend  who  never  deceived 
me  before  was  right  in  this  case  too  ;  and  that  the  God 
who  has  checked  and  turned  me  for  forty  years  of  wild 
toil  and  warfare,  whenever  I  dared  to  do  what  was  right 
in  the  sight  of  my  own  eyes,  has  not  forgotten  me  yet, 
or  given  up  the  thankless  task  of  my  education  ?  " 

"  And  who,  pray,  is  this  peerless  friend  ?  " 

"  Augustine  of  Hippo." 

"  Humph  !  It  had  been  better  for  the  world  in  gen- 
eral, if  the  great  dialectician  had  exerted  his  powers  of 
persuasion  on  Heraclian  himself." 

"  He  did  so,  but  in  vain." 

"  I  don't  doubt  it.  I  know  the  sleek  Count  well 
enough  to  judge  what  eifect  a  sermon  would  have  upon 
that  smooth  vulpine  determination  of  his.  .  .  .  '  An  in- 
strument in  the  hands  of  God,  my  dear  brother.  .  .  .  We 
must  obey  His  call,  even  to  the  death,  &c.,  &c.' " 
And  Raphael  laughed  bitterly. 

"  You  know  the  Count .?  " 

"  As  well,  sir,  as  I  care  to  know  any  man." 

"  I  am  sorry  for  your  eyesight,  then,  sir,"  said  the 
Prefect,  severely,  "  if  it  has  been  able  to  discern  no  more 
than  that  in  so  august  a  character." 

"  My  dear  sir,  I  do  not  doubt  his  excellence,  —  nay, 
his  inspiration.  How  well  he  divined  the  perfectly  fit 
moment  for  stabbing  his  old  comrade,  Stilicho  !  But 
really,  as  two  men  of  the  world,  we  must  be  aware  by 
this  time  that  every  man  has  his  price."  .... 

"  O,  hush  !  hush  !  "  whispered  the  girl.  "  You  can- 
not guess  how  you  pain  him.  He  worships  the  Count. 
It  was  not  ambition,  as  he  pretends,  but  mere  loyalty  to 
him,  which  brought  him  here  against  his  will." 


274 


HYPATIA. 


"  My  dear  madam,  forgive  me.  For  your  sake  I  am 
silent."  .... 

"  For  her  sake  !  A  pretty  speech  for  me  !  What 
next  ?  "  said  he  to  himself.  "  Ah,  Bran,  Bran,  this  is 
all  your  fault !  " 

"  For  my  sake  ?  O,  why  not  for  your  own  sake  .'' 
How  sad  to  hear  one  —  one  like  you,  only  sneering 
and  speaking  evil  !  " 

"  Why,  then  ?  If  fools  are  fools,  and  one  can  safely 
call  them  so,  why  not  do  it .''  " 

"  Ah,  if  God  was  merciful  enough  to  send  down  his 
own  Son  to  die  for  them,  "should  we  not  be  merciful 
enough  not  to  judge  their  failings  harshly  ?  " 

"  My  dear  young  lady,  spare  a  worn-out  philosopher 
any  new  anthropologic  theories.  We  really  must  push 
on  a  little  faster,  if  we  intend  to  reach  Ostia  to-night." 

But,  for  some  reason  or  other,  Raphael  sneered  no 
more  for  a  full  half-hour. 

Long,  however,  ere  they  reached  Ostia,  the  night  had 
fallen  ;  and  their  situation  began  to  be  more  than  ques- 
tionably safe.  Now  and  then  a  wolf,  slinking  across 
the  road  toward  his  ghastly  feast,  glided  like  a  lank 
ghost  out  of  the  darkness,  and  into  it  again,  answering 
Bran's  growl  by  a  gleam  of  his  white  teeth.  Then  the 
voices  of  some  marauding  party  rang  coarse  and  loud 
through  the  still  night,  and  made  them  hesitate  and  stop 
awhile.  And  at  last,  worst  of  all,  the  measured  tramp 
of  an  imperial  column  began  to  roll  like  distant  thunder 
along  the  plain  below.  They  were  advancing  upon 
Ostia  !  What  if  they  arrived  there  before  the  routed 
army  could  rally,  and  defend  themselves  long  enough  to 
reembark  ?  .  .  .  .  What  if  —  a  thousand  ugly  possibili- 
ties began  to  crowd  up. 


THE  BOTTOM  OF  THE  ABYSS. 


275 


"  Suppose  we  found  the  gates  of  Ostia  shut,  and  the 
Imperialists  bivouacked  outside  ?  "  said  Raphael,  half  to 
himself. 

"  God  would  protect  his  own,"  answered  the  girl  ; 
and  Raphael  had  no  heart  to  rob  her  of  her  hope,  though 
he  looked  upon  their  chances  of  escape  as  growing 
smaller  and  smaller  every  moment.  The  poor  girl  was 
weary  ;  the  mule  weary  also  ;  and  as  they  crawled 
along,  at  a  pace  which  made  it  cei'tain  that  the  fast 
passing  column  would  be  at  Ostia  an  hour  before  them, 
to  join  the  vanguard  of  the  pursuers,  and  aid  them  in 
investing  the  town,  she  had  to  lean  again  and  again  on 
Raphael's  arm.  Her  shoes,  unfitted  for  so  rough  a  jour- 
ney, had  been  long  since  torn  off,  and  her  tender  feet 
were  marking  every  step  with  blood.  Raphael  knew  it 
-by  her  faltering  gait ;  and  remarked,  too,  that  neither 
sigh  nor  murmur  passed  her  lips.  But  as  for  helping 
her,  he  could  not ;  and  began  to  curse  the  fancy  which 
had  led  him  to  eschew  even  sandals  as  unworthy  the 
self-dependence  of  a  Cynic. 

And  so  they  crawled  along,  while  Raphael  and  the 
Prefect,  each  guessing  the  terrible  thoughts  of  the  other, 
were  thankful  for  the  darkness  which  hid  their  despair- 
ing countenances  from  the  young  girl ;  she,  on  the  other 
hand,  chatting  cheerfully,  almost  laughingly,  to  her  si- 
lent father. 

At  last  the  poor  child  stepped  on  some  stone  more 
sharp,  than  usual,  —  and  with  a  sudden  writhe  and 
shriek,  sank  to  the  ground.     Raphael  lifted  her  up,  and 

she  tried  to  proceed,  but  sank  down  again What 

was  to  be  done  ? 

"  I  expected  this,"  said  the  Prefect,  in  a  slow,  stately 
voice.     "  Hear  me,  sir  !     Jew,  Christian,  or  philosopher, 


276 


HYPATIA. 


God  seems  to  have  bestowed  on  you  a  heart  which  I  can 
trust.  To  your  care  I  commit  this  girl,  —  your  prop- 
erty, like  me,  by  right  of  war.  Mount  her  upon  this 
mule.  Hasten  with  her  —  where  you  will,  —  for  God 
will  be  there  also.  And  may  He  so  deal  with  you,  as 
you  deal  with  her  henceforth.  An  old  and  disgraced 
soldier  can  do  no  more  than  die." 

And  he  made  an  effort  to  dismount ;  but,  fainting 
from  his  wounds,  sank  upon  the  neck  of  the  mule. 
Raphael  and  his  daughter  caught  him  in  their  arms. 

"  Father  !  Father  !  Impossible  !  Cruel  !  Oh  — 
do  you  think  that  I  would  have  followed  you  hither 
from  Africa,  against  your  own  entreaties,  to  desert  you 
now  ?  " 

"  My  daughter,  I  command  !  " 

The  girl  remained  firm  and  silent. 

"  How  long  have  you  learned  to  disobey  me  ?  Lift 
the  old,  disgraced  man  down,  sir,  and  leave  him  to  die 
in  the  right  place,  —  on  the  battle-field  where  his  gen- 
eral set  him." 

The  girl  sunk  down  on  the  road  in  an  agony  of  weep- 
ing. "  I  must  help  myself,  I  see,"  said  her  father, 
dropping  to  the  ground.  "  Authority  vanishes  before 
old  age  and  humiliation.  Victoria  !  Has  your  father 
no  sins  to  answer  for  already,  that  you  will  send  him 
before  his  God  with  your  blood  too  upon  his  head  ? " 

Still  the  girl  sat  weeping  on  the  ground  ;  while  Ra- 
phael, utterly  at  his  wits'  end,  tried  hard  to  persuade 
himself  that  it  was  no  concern  of  his. 

"  I  am  at  the  service  of  either  or  of  both,  for  life 
or  death ;  only  be  so  good  as  to  settle  it  quickly. 
....  Hell !  here  it  is  settled  for  us,  with  a  ven- 
geance ! " 


THE  BOTTOM  OF  THE  ABYSS.  277 

And  as  he  spoke,  the  tramp  and  jingle  of  horsemen 
rang  along  the  lane,  approaching  rapidly. 

In  an  instant  Victoria  had  sprung  to  her  feet,  — 
weakness  and  pain  had  vanished. 

"  There  is  one  chance,  —  one  chance  for  him  !  Lift 
him  over  the  bank,  sir !  Lift  him  over,  while  I  run  for- 
ward and  meet  them.  My  death  will  delay  them  long 
enough  for  you  to  save  him  !  " 

"  Death  ?  "  cried  Raphael,  seizing  her  by  the  arm. 
"If  that  were  all " 

"  God  will  protect  his  own,"  answered  she,  calmly, 
laying  her  finger  on  her  lips  ;  and  then,  breaking  from 
his  grasp  in  the  strength  of  her  heroism,  vanished  into 
the  night. 

Her  father  tried  to  follow  her,  but  fell  on  his  face, 
groaning.  Raphael  lifted  him,  strove  to  drag  him  up 
the  steep  bank  :  but  his  knees  knocked  together ;  a  faint 

sweat  seemed  to  melt  every  limb There  was  a 

pause,   which   seemed    ages    long Nearer   and 

nearer  came  the  trampling A  sudden  gleam  of 

the  moon  revealed  Victoria  standing  with  outspread 
arms,  right  before  the  horses'  heads.  A  heavenly  glory 
seemed  to  bathe  her  from  head  to  foot  ....  or  was  it 
tears  sparkling  in  his  own  eyes  ?  .  .  .  .  Then  the  grate 
and  jar  of  the  horse-hoofs  on    the  road,  as  they  pulled 

up  suddenly He  turned  his  face  away  and  shut 

his  eyes 

"  What  are  you  ?  "  thundered  a  voice. 

"  Victoria,  the  daughter  of  Majoricus  the  Prefect." 

The  voice  was  low,  but  yet  so  clear  and  calm  that  ev- 
ery syllable  rang  through  Aben-Ezra's  tingling  ears 

A  shout,  —  a  shriek,  —  the  confused  murmur  of  many 
voices  ....  he  looked  up,  in  spite  of  himself,  —  a  horse- 


278 


HYPATIA. 


man  had  sprung  to  the  ground,  and  clasped  Victoria  in 
his  arms.  The  human  heart  of  flesh,  asleep  for  many 
a  year,  leaped  into  mad  life  within  his  breast,  and,  draw- 
ing his  dagger,  he  rushed  into  the  throng, — 

"Villains!  Hellhounds!  1  will  balk  you!  She 
shall  die  first !  " 

And  the  bright  blade  gleamed  over  Victoria's  head. 
....  He  was  struck  down^ —  blinded  —  half  stunned  — 

but  rose  again  with  the  energy  of  madness What 

was  this  ?     Soft  arms  around  him  ....  Victoria's  ! 

"  Save  him  !  spare  him  !  Fie  saved  us  !  Sir  !  It 
is  my  brother  !  We  are  safe  !  O,  spare  the  dog!  It 
saved  my  father  !  " 

"  We  have  mistaken  each  other,  indeed,  sir  !  "  said 
a  gay  young  Tribune,  in  a  voice  trembling  with  joy. 
"  Where  is  my  father  ?  " 

"  Fifty  yards  behind.  Down,  Bran !  Quiet !  O 
Solomon  mine  ancestor,  why  did  you  not  prevent  mo 
making  such  an  egregious  fool  of  myself?  Why,  1 
I  shall  be  forced,  in  self-justification,  to  carry  through 
the  farce  !  " 

There  is  no  use  telling  what  followed  during  the  next 
five  minutes,  at  the  end  of  which  time  Raphael  found 
himself  astride  of  a  goodly  war-horse,  by  the  side  of 
the  young  Tribune,  who  carried  Victoria  before  him. 
Two  soldiers  in  the  mean  time  were  supporting  the 
Prefect  on  his  mule,  and  convincing  that  stubborn  bearer 
of  burdens  that  it  was  not  quite  so  unable  to  trot  as  it 
had  fancied,  by  the  combined  arguments  of  a  drench 
of  wine  and  two  sword-points,  while  they  heaped 
their  general  with  blessings,  and  kissed  his  hands  and 
feet. 

"  Your  father's  soldiers  seem  to  consider  themselves 


THE  BOTTOJI  OF  THE  ABYSS.  279 

in  debt  to  him  :  not,  surely,  for  taking  them  where  they 
could  best  run  away  ?  " 

"  Ah,  poor  fellows  !  "  said  the  Tribune  ;  "  we  have 
had  as  real  a  panic  among  us  as  I  ever  read  of  in  Arrian 
or  Polybius.  But  he  has  been  a  father  rather  than  a 
general  to  them.  It  is  not  often  that,  out  of  a  routed 
army,  twenty  gallant  men  will  volunteer  to  ride  back 
into  the  enemy's  ranks,  on  the  chance  of  an  old  man's 
breathinor  still." 

"  Then  you  knew  where  to  find  us  ?  "  said  Victoria. 

"  Some  of  them  knew.  And  he  himself  showed  us 
this  very  by-road  yesterday,  when  we  took  up  our 
ground,  and  told  us  it  might  be  of  service  on  occasion, 
—  and  so  it  has  been." 

"  But  they  told  me  that  you  were  taken  prisoner. 
O  the  torture  I  have  suffered  for  you  !  " 

"  Silly  child  !  Did  you  fancy  my  father's  son  would 
be  taken  alive  ?  I  and  the  first  troop  got  away  over  the 
garden  walls,  and  cut  our  way  out  into  the  plain,  three 
hours  ago." 

"  Did  I  not  tell  you,"  said  Victoria,  leaning  toward 
Raphael,  "  that  God  would  protect  his  own  ?  " 

"  You  did,"  answered  he  ;  and  fell  into  a  long  and 
silent  meditation. 


280 


CHAPTER    XIV. 


THE    ROCKS    OF    THE    SIRENS. 


These  four  months  had  been  busy  and  eventful 
enough  to  Hypatia  and  to  Philammon  ;  yet  the  events 
and  the  business  were  of  so  gradual  and  uniform  a 
tenor,  that  it  is  as  well  to  pass  quickly  over  them,  and 
show  what  had  happened  principally  by  its  effects. 

The  robust  and  fiery  desert  lad  was  now  metamor- 
phosed into  the  pale  and  thoughtful  student,  oppressed 
with  the  weight  of  careful  thought  and  weary  memory. 
But  those  remembrances  were  all  recent  ones.  With 
his  entrance  into  Hypatia's  lecture-room,  and  into  the 
fairy  realms  of  Greek  thought,  a  new  life  had  begun 
for  him  ;  and  the  Laura,  and  Pambo,  and  Arsenius, 
seemed  dim  phantoms  from  some  antenatal  existence, 
which  faded  day  by  day  before  the  inrush  of  new  and 
startling  knowledge. 

But  though  the  friends  and  scenes  of  his  childhood 
had  fallen  back  so  swiftly  into  the  far  horizon,  he  was 
not  lonely.  His  heart  found  a  lovelier,  if  not  a  healthier 
home,  than  it  had  ever  known  before.  For  during  those 
four  peaceful  and  busy  months  of  study  there  had 
sprung  up  between  Hypatia  and  the  beautiful  boy  one 


THE    ROCKS    OF    THE    SIRENS.  281 

of  those  pure  and  yet  passionate  friendships,  —  call 
thenn  rather,  with  St.  Augustine,  by  the  .sacred  name  of 
love,  —  which,  fair  and  holy  as  they  are  when  they  link 
youth  to  youth,  or  girl  to  girl,  reach  their  full  perfection 
only  between  man  and  woman.  The  unselfish  adora- 
tion with  which  a  maiden  may  bow  down  before  some 
strong  and  holy  priest,  or  with  which  an  enthusiastic 
boy  may  cling  to  the  wise  and  tender  matron,  who,  amid 
the  turmoil  of  the  world,  and  the  pride  of  beauty,  and 
the  cares  of  wifehood,  bends  down  to  him  with  counsel 
and  encouragement,  —  earth  knows  no  fairer  bonds  than 
these,  save  wedded  love  itself.  And  that  second  rela- 
tion, motherly  rather  than  sisterly,  had  bound  Philam- 
mon  with  a  golden  chain  to  the  wondrous  maid  of  Al- 
exandria. 

From  the  commencement  of  his  attendance  in  her 
lecture-room  she  had  suited  her  discourses  to  what  she 
fancied  were  his  especial  spiritual  needs ;  and  many  a 
glance  of  the  eye  towards  him,  on  any  peculiarly  im- 
portant sentence,  set  the  poor  boy's  heart  beating  at  that 
sign  that  the  words  wqre  meant  for  him.  But  before  a 
month  was  past,  won  by  the  intense  attention  with 
which  he  watched  for  every  utterance  of  hers,  she  had 
persuaded  her  father  to  give  him  a  place  in  the  library 
as  one  of  his  pupils,  among  the  youths  who  were  em- 
ployed there  daily  in  transcribing,  as  well  as  in  study- 
ing, the  authors  then  in  fashion. 

She  saw  him  at  first  but  seldom,  —  more  seldom  than 
she  w^ould  have  wished  :  but  she  dreaded  the  tongue  of 
scandal,  heathen  as  well  as  Christian,  and  contented 
herself  with  inquiring  daily  from  her  father  about  the 
progress  of  the  boy.  And  when  at  times  she  entered 
for   a  moment  the  library,  where   he    sat  writing,  or 

VOL.  I.  19 


282  HYPATIA. 

passed  him  on  her  way  to  the  Museum,  a  look  was  in- 
terchanged, on  her  part  of  most  gracious  approval,  and 
on  his  of  adoring  gratitude,  which  was  enough  for  both. 
Her  spell  was  working  surely ;  and  she  was  too  confi- 
dent in  her  own  cause  and  her  own  powers  to  wish  to 
hurry  that  transformation  for  which  she  so  fondly  hoped. 
"  He  must  begin  at  the  beginning,"  thought  she  to 
herself.  "  Mathematics  and  the  Parmenides  are  enough 
for  him  as  yet.  Without  a  training  in  the  liberal  sci- 
ences he  cannot  gain  a  faith  worthy  of  those  gods,  to 
whom  some  day  I  shall  present  him  ;  and  I  should  find 
his  Christian  ignorance  and  fanaticism  transferred, 
whole  and  rude,  to  the  service  of  those  gods  whose 
shrine  is  unapproachable  save  to  the  spiritual  man,  who 
has  passed  through  the  successive  vestibules  of  science 
and  philosophy." 

But  soon,  attracted  herself,  as  much,  as  wishing  to 
attract  him,  she  employed  him  in  copying  manuscripts 
for  her  own  use. ,  She  sent  back  his  themes  and  decla- 
mations, corrected  with  her  own  hand  ;  and  Philammon 
laid  them  by  in  his  little  garret  at  Eudaemon's  house  as 
precious  badges  of  honor,  after  exhibiting  them  to  the 
reverential  and  envious  gaze  of  the  little  porter.  So  he 
toiled  on,  early  and  late,  counting  himself  well  paid  for 
a  week's  intense  exertion  by  a  single  smile,  or  word  of 
approbation,  and  went  home  to  pour  out  his  soul  to  his 
host  on  the  one  inexhaustible  theme  which  they  had  in 
common,  —  Hypatia  and  her  perfections.  He  would 
have  raved  often  enough  on  the  same  subject  to  his  fel- 
low-pupils, but  he  shrank  not  only  from  their  artificial 
city  manners,  but  also  from  their  morality,  for  suspect- 
ing which  he  saw  but  too  good  cause.  He  longed  to  go 
out  into  the  streets,  to  proclaim  to  the  whole  world  the 


THE    KOCKS    OF    THE    SIRENS.  283 

treasure  which  he  had  found,  and  call  on  all  to  come 
and  share  it  with  him.  For  there  was  no  jealousy  in 
that  pure  love  of  his.  Could  he  have  seen  her  lavishing 
on  thousands  far  greater  favors  than  she  had  conferred 
on  him,  he  would  have  rejoiced  in  the  thought  that  there 
were  so  many  more  blest  beings  upon  earth,  and  have 
loved  them  all^and  every  one  as  brothers,  for  having 
deserved  her  notice.  Her  very  beauty,  when  his  first 
flush  of  wonder  was  past,  he  ceased  to  mention, — 
ceased  even  to  think  of  it.  Of  course  she  must  be 
beautiful.  It  was  her  right;  the  natural  complement  of 
her  other  graces :  but  it  was  to  him  only  what  the 
mother's  smile  is  to  the  infant,  the  sunlight  to  the  sky- 
lark, the  mountain  breeze  to  the  hunter,  —  an  inspiring 
element,  on  which  he  fed  unconsciously.  Only  when 
he  doubted  for  a  moment  some  especially  startling  or 
fanciful  assertion,  did  he  become  really  aware  of  the 
great  loveliness  of  her  who  made  it ;  and  then  his  heart 
silenced  his  judgment  with  the  thought,  —  Could  any 
but  true  words  come  out  of  those  perfect  lips  ?  —  any 
but  royal  thoughts  take  shape  within  that  queenly  head  ? 
....  Poor  fool !     Yet  was  it  not  natural  enough  ? 

Then,  gradually,  as  she  passed  the  boy,  poring  over 
his  book  in  some  alcove  of  the  Museum  gardens,  she 
would  invite  him  by  a  glance  to  join  the  knot  of  loun- 
gers and  questioners  who  dangled  about  her  and  her 
father,  and  fancied  themselves  to  be  reproducing  the 
days  of  the  Athenian  sages  amid  the  groves  of  another 
Academus.  Sometimes,  even,  she  had  beckoned  him 
to  her  side  as  she  sat  in  some  retired  arbor,  attended 
only  by  her  father  ;  and  there  some  passing  observation, 
earnest  and  personal,  however  lofty  and  measured, 
made  him  aware,  as  it  was  intended  to  do,  that  she  had 


284  HYPATIA. 

a  deeper  interest  in  him,  a  livelier  sympathy  for  him, 
than  for  the  many  ;  that  ho  was  in  her  eyes,  not  merely 
a  pupil  to  be  instructed,  but  a  soul  whom  she  desired  to 
educate.  And  those  delicious  gleams  of  sunlight  grew 
more  frequent  and  more  protracted  ;  for  by  each  she 
satisfied  herself  more  and  more  that  she  had  not  mis- 
taken either  his  powers  or  his  susceptibilities  ;  and  in 
each,  whether  in  public  or  private,  Philammon  seemed 
to  bear  himself  more  worthily.  For  over  and  above  the 
natural  ease  and  dignity  which  accompanies  physical 
beauty,  and  the  modesty,  self-restraint,  and  deep  earnest- 
ness, which  he  had  acquired  under  the  discipline  of  the 
Laura,  his  Greek  character  was  developing  itself  in  all 
its  quickness,  subtlety,  and  versatility,  until  he  seemed 
to  Hypatia  some  young  Titan,  by  the  side  of  the  flip- 
pant, hasty,  and  insincere  talkers  who  made  up  her 
chosen  circle. 

But  man  can  no  more  live  upon  Platonic  love  than  on 
the  more  prolific  species  of  that  common  ailment ;  and 
for  the  first  month  Philammon  would  have  gone  hungry 
to  his  couch  full  many  a  night,  to  lie  awake  from  baser 
causes  than  philosophic  meditation,  had  it  not  been  for 
his  maf^nanimous  host,  who  never  lost  heart  for  a  mo- 
ment, either  about  himself,  or  any  other  human  being. 
As  for  Philammon's  going  out  with  him  to  earn  his 
bread,  he  would  not  hear  of  it.  Did  he  suppose  that 
he  could  meet  any  of  those  monkish  rascals  in  the 
street  without  being  knocked  down  and  carried  off  by 
main  force  ?  And  beside,  there  was  a  sort  of  impiety 
in  allowing  so  hopeful  a  student  to  neglect  the  "  Divine 
Ineffable  "  in  order  to  supply  the  base  necessities  of 
the  teeth.  So  he  should  pay  no  rent  for  his  lodgings, 
positively   none  ;   and  as   for   eatables,  —  why,   he 


THE    ROCKS    OF    THE    SIRENS.  285 

must  himself  work  a  little  harder  in  order  to  cater  for 
both.  Had  not  all  his  neighbors  their  litters  of  children 
to  provide  for,  while  he,  thanks  to  the  immortals,  had 
been  far  too  wise  to  burden  the  earth*  with  animals  who 
would  add  to  the  ugliness  of  their  father  the  Tartarean 
hue,of  their  mother?  And  after  all,  Philammon  could 
pay  him  back  when  he  became  a  great  sophist,  and 
made  money,  as  of  course  he  would  some  day  or  other ; 
and  in  the  mean  time,  something  might  turn  up,  —  things 
were  always  turning  up  for  those  whom  the  gods 
favored  ;  and  besides,  he  had  fully  ascertained  that  on 
the  day  on  which  he  first  met  Philammon,  the  planets 
were  favorable,  the  Mercury  being  in  something  or 
other,  he  forgot  what,  with  Helios,  which  portended  for 
Philammon,  in  his  opinion,  a  similar  career  with  that  of 
the  glorious  and  devout  Emperor  Julian. 

Philammon  winced  somewhat  at  the  hint ;  which 
seemed  to  have  an  ugly  verisimilitude  in  it :  but  still, 
philosophy  he  must  learn,  and  bread  he  must  eat ;  so 
he  submitted. 

But  one  evening,  a  few  days  after  he  had  been  ad- 
mitted asTheon's  pupil,  he  found,  much  to  his  astonish- 
ment, lying  on  the  table  in  his  garret,  an  undeniable 
glittering  gold  piece.  He  took  it  down  to  the  porter 
the  next  morning,  and  begged  him  to  discover  the 
owner  of  the  lost  coin,  and  return  it  duly.  But  what 
was  his  surprise,  when  the  little  man,  amid  endless 
capers  and  gesticulations,  informed  him,  with  an  air  of 
mystery,  that  it  was  any  thing  but  lost ;  that  his  arrears 
of  rent  had  been  paid  for  him  ;  and  that,  by  the  bounty 
of  the  upper  powers,  a  fresh  piece  of  coin  would  be 
forthcoming  every  month.  Jnvain  Philammon  demand- 
ed to  know  who  was  his  benefactor.     Eudsemon  resolute- 


286 


HYPATIA. 


ly  kept  the  secret,  and  imprecated  a  whole  Tartarus  of 
unnecessary  curses  on  his  wife  if  she  allowed  her  fe- 
male garrulity —  though  the  poor  creature  seemed  never 
to  open  lier  lips  from  morning  till  night  —  to  betray 
so  great  a  mystery. 

Who  was  the  unknown  friend  ?     There  was  but  one 

person   who   could   have   done    it And   yet   he 

dared  not  —  the  thought  was  too  delightful  —  think  that 
it  was  she.  It  must  have  been  her  father.  The  old 
man  had  asked  him  more  than  once  about  the  state  of 
his  purse.  True,  he  had  always  returned  evasive  an- 
swers ;  but  the  kind  old  man  must  have  divined  the  truth. 
Ought  he  not  —  must  he  not  —  go  and  thank  him.? 
No  ;  perhaps  it  was  more  courteous  to  say  nothing.  If 
he  —  she  —  for  of  course  she  had  permitted,  perhaps 
advised,  the  gift  —  had  intended  him  to  thank  them, 
would  they  have  so  carefully  concealed  their  own  gen- 
erosity ? Be  it  so,  then.     But  how  would  he  not 

repay  them  for  it !  How  delightful  to  be  in  her  debt 
for  any  thing  —  for  every  thing  !  Would  that  he  could 
have  the  enjoyment  of  owing  her  existence  itself  ! 

So  he  took  the  coin,  bought  unto  himself  a  cloak  of 
the  most  philosophic  fashion,  and  went'his  way,  such  as 
it  was,  rejoicing. 

But  his  faith  in  Christianity  ?  What  had  become  of 
that } 

What  usually  happens  in  such  cases.  It  was  not 
dead ;  but  nevertheless  it  had  fallen  fast  asleep  for  the 
time  being.  He  did  not  disbelieve  it ;  he  would  have 
been  shocked  to  hear  such  a  thing  asserted  of  him  :  but 
he  happened  to  be  busy  believing  something  else,  — 
geometry,  conic  sections,  cosmogonies,  psychologies, 
and  what  not.     And  so  it  befell  that  he  had  not  just  then 


THE    ROCKS    OF    THE    SIRENS.  287 

time  to  believe  in  Christianity.  He  recollected  at  times 
its  existence  ;  but  even  then,  he  neither  affirmed  nor 
denied  it.  When  he  had  solved  the  great  questions  — 
those  which  Hypatia  set  forth  as  the  roots  of  all  knowl- 
edge—  how  the  world  was  made,  and  what  was  the 
origin  of  evil,  and  what  his  own  personality  was,  and  — 
that  being  settled  —  whether  he  had  one,  with  a  few 
other  preliminary  matters,  then  it  would  be  time  to  re- 
turn, with  his  enlarged  light,  to  the  study  of  Christianity  ; 
and  if,  of  course,  Christianity  should  be  found  to  be  at 
variance  with  that  enlarged  light,  as  Hypatia  seemed  to 

think Why,    then  —  What   then  ? He 

would  not  think  about  such  disagreeable  possibilities. 
Sufficient  for  the  day  was  the  evil  thereof     Possibilities  ? 

It  was  impossible Philosophy  could  not  mislead. 

Had  not  Hypatia  defined  it,  as  man's  search  after  the 
unseen  ?  And  if  he  found  the  unseen  by  it,  did  it  not 
come  to  just  the  same  thing  as  if  the  unseen  had  re- 
vealed itself  to  him  ?  And  he  must  find  it,  —  for  logic 
and  mathematics  could  not  err.  If  every  step  was  cor- 
rect, the  conclusion  must  be  correct  also ;  so  he  must 
end,  after  all,  in. the  right  path,  —  that  is,  of  course, 
supposing  Christianity  to  be  the  right  path,  —  and  re- 
turn to  ficrht  the  Church's  battles,  with  the  sword  which 

he  had  wrested  from  Goliath  the  Philistine But 

he  had  not  won  the  sword  yet :  and  in  the  mean  while, 
learning  was  weary  work ;  and  sufficient  for  the  day 
was  the  good,  as  well  as  the  evil,  thereof. 

So,  enabled  by  his  gold  coin  each  month  to  devote 
himself  entirely  to  study,  he  became  very  much  what 
Peter  would  have  coarsely  termed  a  heathen.  At  first, 
indeed,  he  slipped  into  the  Christian  churches,  from  a 
habit  of  conscience.     But  habits  soon  grow  sleepy  ;  the 


288 


HYPATIA. 


fear  of  discovery  and  recapture  made  his  attendance 
more  and  more  of  a  labor.  And  keeping  himself  apart 
as  much  as  possible  from  the  congregation,  as  a  lonely 
and  a  secret  worshipper,  he  soon  found  himself  as  sep- 
arate from  them  in  heart  as  in  daily  life.  He  felt  that 
they,  and  even  more  than  they,  those  flowery  and  bom- 
bastic pulpit  rhetoricians,  who  were  paid  for  their  ser- 
mons by  the  clapping  and  cheering  of  the  congregation, 
were  not  thinking  of,  longing  after,  the  same  things  as 
himself.  Besides,  he  never  spoke  to  a  Christian  ;  for 
the  negress  at  his  lodo-ings  seemed  to  avoid  him,  — 
whether  from  modesty  or  terror,  he  could  not  tell ;  and 
cut  off  thus  from  the  outward  "  communion  of  saints," 
he  found  himself  fast  parting  away  from  the  inward  one. 
So  he  went  no  more  to  church  ;  and  looked  the  other 
way,  he  hardly  knew  why,  whenever  he  passed  the 
Csesareum  ;  and  Cyril,  and  all  his  mighty  organization, 
became  to  him  another  world,  with  which  he  had  even 
less  to  do  than  with  those  planets  over  his  head,  whose 
mysterious  movements  and  symbolisms  and  influences 
Hypatia's  lectures  on  astronomy  were  just  opening 
before  his  bewildered  imafrination. 

Hypatia  watched  all  this  with  growing  self-satisfac- 
tion, and  fed  herself  with  the  dream  that  through  Phi- 
lammon  she  might  see  her  wildest  hopes  realized. 
After  the  manner  of  women,  she  crowned  him,  in  her 
own  imagination,  with  all  powers  and  excellences 
which  she  would  have  wished  him  to  possess,  as  well  as 
with  those  which  he  actually  manifested,  till  Philam- 
mon  would  have  been  as  much  astonished  as  self-glo- 
rified could  he  have  seen  the  idealized  caricature  of 
himself,  which  the  sweet  enthusiast  had  painted  for 
her   private   enjoyment.     They    were  blissful  months, 


THE    KOCKS    OF    THE    SIRENS.  289 

those,  to  poor  Hypatia.  Orestes,  for  some  reason  or 
other,  had  neglected  to  urge  his  sirit,  and  the  Iphigenia 
sacrifice  had  retired  mercifully  into  the  background. 
Perhaps  she  should  be  able  now  to  accomplish  all  with- 
out it.  And  yet  —  it  was  so  long  to  wait !  Years  might 
pass  before  Philammon's  education  was  matured,  and 
with  them  golden  opportunities  which  might  never 
recur  again, 

"  Ah  !  "  she  sighed  at  times,  "  that  Julian  had  lived 
a  generation  later  !  That  I  could  have  brought  all  my 
hard-earned  treasures  to  the  feet  of  the  Poet  of  the  Sun, 
and  cried,  "Take  me!  —  Hero,  warrior,  statesman, 
sage,  priest  of  the  God  of  Light !  Take  thy  slave  ! 
Command  her  —  send  her  —  to  martyrdom,  if  thou  wilt !  " 
A  petty  price  would  that  have  been  wherewith  to  buy 
the  honor  of  being  the  meanest  of  thy  apostles,  the 
fellow-laborer  of  lamblichus,  Maximus,  Libanius,  and 
the  choir  of  sages  who  upheld  the  throne  of  the  last 
true  Csesar !  " 


290 


CHAPTER    XV 


NEPHELOCOCCUGUIA. 


Hypatia  had  always  avoided  carefully  discussing  with 
Philammon  any  of  those  points  on  which  she  differed 
from  his  former  faith.  She  was  content  to  let  the  di- 
vine light  of  philosophy  penetrate  by  its  own  power,  and 
educe  its  own  conclusions.  But  one  day,  at  the  very 
time  at  which  this  history  reopens,  she  was  tempted  to 
speak  more  openly  to  her  pupil  than  she  yet  had  done. 
Her  father  had  introduced  him,  a  few  days  before,  to  a 
new  work  of  hers  on  Mathematics;  and  the  delighted 
and  adoring  look  with  which  the  boy  welcomed  her,  as 
he  met  her  in  the  Museum  Gardens,  pardonably  tempt- 
ed her  curiosity  to  inquire  what  miracles  her  own  wis- 
dom might  have  already  worked.  She  stopped  in  her 
walk,  and  motioned  her  father  to  begin  a  conversation 
with  Philammon. 

"  Well  ! "  asked  the  old  man,  with  an  encouraging 
smile,  "  and  how  does  our  pupil  like  his  new " 

"  You  mean  my  conic  sections,  father  ?  It  is  hardly 
fair  to  expect  an  unbiased  answer  in  my  presence." 

"  Why  so  ?  "  said  Philammon.  "  Why  should  I  not 
tell  you,  as  well  as  all  the  world,  the  fresh  and  wonder- 


NEPHELOCOCCUGUIA.  291 

ful  field  of  thought  which  they  have  opened  to  me,  in  a 
few  short  hours  ?  " 

"  What  then  ?  "  asked  Hypatia,  smiling,  as  if  she 
knew  what  the  answer  would  be.  "  In  what  does  my 
commentary  differ  from  the  original  text  of  Apollonius, 
on  which  I  have  so  faithfully  based  it  ?  " 

"  O,  as  much  as  a  living  body  differs  from  a  dead 
one.  Instead  of  mere  dry  disquisitions  on  the  properties 
of  lines  and  curves,  I  found  a  mine  of  poetry  and  theol- 
ogy. Every  dull,  mathematical  formula  seemed  trans- 
figured, as  if  by  a  miracle,  ipto  the  symbol  of  some 
deep  and  noble  principle  of  the  unseen  world," 

"  And  do  you  think  that  he  of  Perga  did  not  see  as 
much  ?  or  that  we  can  pretend  to  surpass,  in  depth  of 
insight,  the  sages  of  the  elder  world  ?  Be  sure  that  they, 
like  the  poets,  meant  only  spiritual  things,  even  when 
they  seem  to  talk  only  of  physical  ones,  and  concealed 
heaven  under  an  earthly  garb,  only  to  hide  it  from  the 
eyes  of  the  profane  ;  while  we,  in  these  degenerate 
days,  must  interpret  and  display  each  detail  to  the  dull 
ears  of  men  ? 

"  Do  you  think,  my  young  friend,"  asked  Theon, 
"  that  mathematics  can  be  valuable  to  the  philosopher 
otherwise  than  as  vehicles  of  spiritual  truth  ?  Are  we 
to  study  numbers  merely  that  we  may  be  able  to  keep 
accounts  ;  or  as  Pythagoras  did,  in  order  to  deduce  from 
their  laws  the  ideas  by  which  the  universe,  man,  Divin- 
ity itself,  consists  ?  " 

"  That  seems  to  me  certainly  to  be  the  nobler  pur- 
pose." 

"  Or  conic  sections,  that  we  may  know  better  how  to 
construct  machineiy  ;    or  rather  to  devise   from  them 


292  HYPATIA. 

symbols  of  the  relations  of  Deity  to  its  various  emana- 
tions ?  " 

"  You  use  your  dialectic  like  Socrates  himself,  my 
father,"  said  Hypatia. 

"  If  I  do,  it  is  only  for  a  temporary  purpose.  I  should 
be  sorry  to  accustom  Philammon  to  suppose  that  the  es- 
sence of  philosophy  was  to  be  found  in  those  minute  in- 
vestigations of  words  and  analyses  of  notions,  which 
seem  to  constitute  Plato's  chief  power  in  the  eyes  of 
those  who,  like  the  Christian  sophist  Augustine,  worship 
his  letter  while  they  neglect  his  spirit ;  not  seeing  that 
those  dialogues,  which  they  fancy  the  shrine  itself,  are 

but  vestibules " 

"  Say  rather,  veils,  father." 

"  Veils,  indeed,  which  were  intended  to  baffle  the 
rude  gaze  of  the  carnal-minded  ;  but  still  vestibules, 
through  which  the  enlightened  soul  might  be  led  up  to 
the  inner  sanctuary,  to  the  Hesperid  gardens  and  golden 
fruit  of  the  Timajus  and  the  oracles And  for  my- 
self, were  but  those  two  books  left,  I  care  not  whether 
every  other  writing  in  the  world  perished  to-morrow."  * 
■  "  You  must  except  Homer,  father." 

"  Yes,  for  the  herd But  of  what  use  would  he 

be  to  them  without  some  spiritual  commentary  ?  " 

"  He  would  tell  them  as  little,  perhaps,  as  the  circle 
tells  to  the  carpenter  who  draws  one  with  his  com- 
passes." 

"  And  what  is  the  meaning  of  the  circle  ?  "  asked 
Philammon. 

"  It  may  have  infinite  meanings,  like  every  other  nat- 


*  This  astounding  speech  is  usually  attributed  to  Proclus,  Hy- 
patia's  "  great "  successor. 


NEPHELOCOCCUGUIA.  293 

ural  phenomenon  ;  and  deeper  meanings  in  proportion 
to  the  exaltation  of  the  soul  which  beholds  it.  But,  con- 
sider, is  it  not,  as  the  one  perfect  figure,  the  very  sym- 
bol of  the  totality  of  the  spiritual  world  ;  which,  like  it, 
is  invisible,  except  at  its  circumference,  where  it  is  lim- 
ited by  the  dead,  gross  phenomena  of  sensuous  matter  ? 
And  even  as  the  circle  takes  its  origin  from  one  centre, 
itself  unseen,  —  a  point,  as  Euclid  defines  it,  whereof 
neither  parts  nor  magnitude  can  be  predicated,  —  does 
not  the  world  of  spirits  revolve  round  one  abysmal  be- 
ing, unseen  and  indefinable,  —  in  itself,  as  I  have  so  of- 
ten preached,  nothing,  for  it  is  conceivable  only  by  the 
negation  of  all  properties,  even  of  those  of  reason,  vir- 
tue, force  :  and  yet,  like  the  centre  of  the  circle,  the 
cause  of  all  other  existences  ?  " 

"  I  see,"  said  Philammon  ;  for  the  moment,  certain- 
ly, the  said  abysmal  Deity  struck  him  as  a  somewhat 

chill  and  barren   notion but  that  might  be  caused 

only  by  the  dulness  of  his  own  spiritual  perceptions. 
At  all  events,  if  it  was  a  logical  conclusion,  it  must  be 
right. 

"  Let  that  be  enough  for  the  present.  Hereafter  you 
may  be  —  I  fancy  that  I  know  you  well  enough  to 
prophesy  that  you  will  be  —  able  to  recognize  in  the 
equilateral  triangle  inscribed  within  the  circle,  and 
touching  it  only  with  its  angles,  the  three  supra-sensual 
principles  of  existence,  which  are  contained  in  Deity  as 
it  manifests  itself  in  the  physical  universe,  coinciding 
with  its  utmost  limits,  and  yet,  like  it,  independent  on 
that  unseen  central  One  which  none  dare  name." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  poor  Philammon,  blushing  scarlet  at  the 
sense  of  his  own  dulness,  "  I  am,  indeed,  not  worthy  to 
have  such  wisdom  wasted  upon  my  imperfect  appre- 


294  HYPATIA. 

hension But,  if  I  may  dare  to  ask  ....  does  not 

ApoUonius  regard  the  circle,  like  all  other  curves,  as 
not  depending  primarily  on  its  own  centre  for  its  exist- 
ence, but  as  generated  by  the  section  of  any  cone  by  a 
plane  at  right  angles  to  its  axis  ?  " 

"  But  must  we  not  draw,  or  at  least  conceive  a  circle, 
in  order  to  produce  that  cone  ?  And  is  not  the  axis  of 
that  cone  determined  by  the  centre  of  that  circle  .''  " 

Philammon  stood  rebuked. 

"  Do  not  be  ashamed ;  you  have  only,  unwittingly, 
laid  open  another,  and,  perhaps,  as  deep  a  symbol. 
Can  you  guess  what  it  is  ?  " 

Philammon  puzzled  in  vain. 

"  Does  it  not  show  you  this  ?  That,  as  every  con- 
ceivable right  section  of  the  cone  discloses  the  circle, 
so  in  all  which  is  fair  and  symmetric  you  will  discover 
Deity,  if  you  but  analyze  it  in  a  right  and  symmetric 
direction  ?  " 

"  Beautiful !  "  said  Philammon,  while  the  old  man 
added, — 

"  And  does  it  not  show  us,  too,  how  the  one  perfect 
and  original  philosophy  may  be  discovered  in  all  great 
writers,  if  we  have  but  that  scientific  knowledge  which 
will  enable  us  to  extract  it  ?  " 

"  True,  my  father  :  but  just  now,  I  wish  Philammon, 
by  such  thoughts  as  I  have  suggested,  to  rise  to  that 
higher  and  more  spiritual  insight  into  nature,  which 
reveals  her  to  us  as  instinct  throughout  —  all  fair  and 
noble  forms  of  her  at  least  —  with  Deity  itself;  to 
make  him  feel  that  it  is  not  enough  to  say,  with  the 
Christians,  that  God  has  made  the  world,  if  we  make 
that  very  assertion  an  excuse  for  believing  that  his 
presence  has  been  ever  since  withdrawn  from  it." 


NEPHELOCOCCUGtJIA.  295 

"  Christians,  I  think,  would  hardly  say  that,"  said 
Philammon. 

"  Not  in  words.  But,  in  fact,  they  regard  Deity  as 
the  maker  of  a  dead  machine,  which,  once  made,  will 
move  of  itself  thenceforth,  and  repudiate  as  heretics 
every  philosophic  thinker,  whether  Gnostic  or  Platonist, 
who,  unsatisfied  with  so  dead,  barren,  and  sordid  a  con- 
ception of  the  glorious  all,  wishes  to  honor  the  Deity  by 
acknowledging  his  universal  presence,  and  to  believe, 
honestly,  the  assertion  of  their  own  Scriptures,  that  He 
lives  and  moves  and  has  his  being  in  the  universe." 

Philammon  gently  suggested  that  the  passage  in 
question  was  worded  somewhat  differently  in  the 
Scripture. 

"  True.  But  if  the  one  be  true,  its  converse  will 
be  true  also.  If  the  universe  lives  and  moves  and 
has  its  being  in  Him,  must  He  not  necessarily  pervade 
all  things  }  " 

"  Why  ?  —  Forgive  my  dulness,  and  explain." 

"  Because,  if  He  did  not  pervade  all  things,  those 
things  which  He  did  not  pervade  would  be  as  it  were 
interstices  in  His  being,  and  in  so  far,  without  Him  ?  " 

"  True,  but  still  they  would  be  within  His  circum- 
ference." 

"  Well  argued.  But  yet  they  would  not  live  in  Him, 
but  in  themselves.  To  live  in  Him  they  must  be  per- 
vaded by  His  life.  Do  you  think  it  possible  —  do  you 
think  it  even  reverent  to  affirm  that  there  can  be  any 
thing  within  the  infinite  glory  of  Deity  which  has  the 
power  of  excluding  from  the  space  which  it  occupies 
that  very  being  from  which  it  draws  its  worth,  and 
which  must  have  originally  pervaded  that  thing,  in  order 
to  bestow  on  it  its  organization  and  its  life  ?     Does  He 


296  HYPATIA. 

retire  after  creating,  from  the  spaces  which  he  occupied 
during  creation,  reduced  to  the  base  necessity  of  mak- 
ing room  for  His  own  universe,  and  endure  the  suffer- 
ing —  for  the  analogy  of  all  material  nature  tells  us 
that  it  is  suffering  —  of  a  foreign  body,  like  a  thorn 
within  the  flesh,  subsisting  within  His  own  substance  ? 
Rather  believe  that  His  wisdom  and  splendor,  like  a 
subtle  and  piercing  fire,  insinuates  itself  eternally  with 
resistless  force  through  every  organized  atom,  and  that 
were  it  withdrawn  but  for  an  instant  from  the  petal  of 
the  meanest  flower,  gross  matter,  and  the  dead  chaos 
from  which  it  was  formed,  would  be  all  which  would 

remain  of  its  loveliness 

"  Yes,"  —  she  went  on,  after  the  method  of  her 
school,  who  preferred,  like  most  decaying  ones,  ha- 
rangues to  dialectic,  and  synthesis  to  induction 

"  Look  at  yon  lotus-flower,  rising  like  Aphrodite  from 
the  wave  in  which  it  has  slept  throughout  the  night, 
and  saluting,  with  bending  swan-neck,  that  sun  which 
it  will  follow  lovingly  around  the  sky.  Is  there  no 
more  there  than  brute  matter,  pipes  and  fibres,  color 
and  shape,  and  the  meaningless  life-in-death  which  men 
call  vegetation  ?  Those  old  Egyptian  priests  knew 
better,  who  could  see  in  the  number  and  the  form  of 
those  ivory  petals  and  golden  stamina,  in  that  mysle- 
rious  daily  birth  out  of  the  wave,  in  that  nightly  bap- 
tism, from  which  it  rises  each  morning  reborn  to  a  new 
life,  the  signs  of  some  divine  idea,  some  mysterious 
law,  common  to  the  flower  itself,  to  the  white-robed 
priestess  who  held   it  in  the  temple-rites,  and   to  the 

goddess  to  whom  they  both  were  consecrated The 

flower  of  Isis  !  .  .  .  .  Ah  —  well.  Nature  has  her  sad 
symbols,  as  well  as  her  fair  ones.     And  in  proportion 


NEPHELOCOCCUGITIA.  297 

as  a  misguided  nation  has  forgotten  the  worship  of  her 
to  whom  they  owed  their  greatness,  for  novel  and  bar- 
baric superstitions,  so  has  her  sacred  flower  grown 
rarer  and  more  rare,  till  now  —  fit  emblem  of  the  wor- 
ship over  which  it  used  to  shed  its  perfume  —  it  is  only  to 
be  found  in  gardens  such  as  these,  —  a  curiosity  to  the 
vulgar,  and,  to  such  as  me,  a  lingering  monument  of 
wisdom  and  of  glory  past  away." 

Philammon,  it  may  be  seen,  was  far  advanced  by 
this  time  ;  for  he  bore  the  allusions  to  Isis  without  the 
slightest  shudder.  Nay,  he  dared  even  to  offer  con- 
solation to  the  beautiful  mourner. 

"  The  philosopher,"  he  said,  "  will  hardly  lament 
the  loss  of  a  mere  outward  idolatry.  For  if,  as  you 
seem  to  think,  there  were  a  root  of  spiritual  truth  in  the 
symbolism  of  nature,  that  cannot  die.  And  thus  the 
lotus-flower  must  still  retain  its  meaning,  as  long  as  its 
species  exists  on  earth." 

"  Idolatry  !  "  answered  she,  with  a  smile.  "  My 
pupil  must  not  repeat  to  me  that  worn-out  Christian 
calumny.  Into  whatsoever  low  superstitions  the  pious 
vulgar  may  have  fallen,  it  is  the  Christians  now,  and 
not  the  heathens,  who  are  idolaters.  They  who  ascribe 
miraculous  power  to  dead  men's  bones,  who  make 
temples  of  charnel-houses,  and  bow  before  the  images 
of  the  meanest  of  mankind,  have  surely  no  right  to 
accuse  of  idolatry  the  Greek  or  the  Egyptian,  who 
embodies  in  a  form  of  symbolic  beauty  ideas  beyond 
the  reach  of  words. 

"  Idolatry  ?     Do  I  worship  the  Pharos  when  I  gaze 

at  it,  as  I  do  for  hours,  with  loving  awe,  as  the  token 

to  me  of  the  all-conquering  might  of  Hellas  ?     Do   I 

worship  the  roll  on  which  Homer's  words  are  written, 

VOL.  I.  20 


298  HYPATIA. 

when  I  welcome  with  delight  the  celestial  truths  which 
it  unfolds  to  me,  and  even  prize  and  love  the  material 
book  for  the  sake  of  the  message  which  it  brings  ?  Do 
you  fancy  that  any  but  the  vulgar  worship  the  image 
itself,  or  dream  that  it  can  help  or  hear  them  ?  Does 
the  lover  mistake  his  mistress's  picture  for  the  living, 
speaking  reality  ?  We  worship  the  idea  of  which  the 
image  is  a  symbol.  Will  you  blame  us  because  we 
use  that  symbol  to  represent  the  idea  to  our  own  affec- 
tions and  emotions,  instead  of  leaving  it  a  barren  notion, 
a  vague  imagination  of  our  own  intellect  ?  " 

"  Then,"  asked  Philammon,  with  a  faltering  voice, 
yet  unable  to  restrain  his  curiosity,  "  then  you  do 
reverence  the  heathen  gods  ?  " 

Why  Hypatia  should  have  felt  this  question  a  sore 
one,  puzzled  Philammon  ;  but  she  evidently  did  feel  it 
as  such,  for  she  answered  haughtily  enough,  — 

"  If  Cyril  had  asked  me  that  question,  I  should  have 
disdained  to  answer.  To  you  I  will  tell,  that  before  I 
can  answer  your  question  you  must  learn  what  those 
whom  you  -call  heathen  gods  are.  The  vulgar,  or  rather 
those  who  find  it  their  interest  to  calumniate  the  vulgar 
for  the  sake  of  confounding  philosophers  with  them, 
may  fancy  them  mere  human  beings,  subject  like  man 
to  the  sufferings  of  pain  and  love,  to  the  limitations  of 
personality.  We,  on  the  other  hand,  have  been  taught 
by  the  primeval  philosophers  of  Greece,  by  the  priests 
of  ancient  Egypt,  and  the  sages  of  Babylon,  to  recog- 
nize in  them  the  universal  powers  of  nature,  those 
children  of  the  all-quickening  spirit,  which  are  but 
various  emanations  of  the  one  primeval  unity,  —  say 
rather,  various  phases  of  that  unity,  as  it  has  been  vari- 
ously conceived,  according  to  the  differences  of  climate 


NEPHELOCOCCUGUIA.  299 

and  race,  by  the  wise  of  different  nations.  And  thus, 
in  our  eyes,  he  who  reverences  the  many  worships  by 
that  very  act,  with  the  highest  and  fullest  adoration,  the 
one  of  whose  perfection  they  are  the  partial  antitypes  ; 
perfect  each  in  themselves,  but  each  the  image  of  only 
one  of  its  perfections." 

"  Why,  then,"  said  Philammon,  much  relieved  by 
this  explanation,  "do  you  so  dislike  Christianity .?  may 
it  not  be  one  of  the  many  methods " 

"  Because,"  she  answered,  interrupting  him  impa- 
tiently, "  because  it  denies  itself  to  be  one  of  those 
many  methods,  and  stakes  its  existence  on  the  denial  ; 
because  it  arrogates  to  itself  the  exclusive  revelation  of 
the  Divine,  and  cannot  see,  in  its  self-conceit,  that  its 
own  doctrines  disprove  that  assumption  by  their  similar- 
ity to  those  of  all  creeds.  There  is  jiot  a  dogma  of  the 
Galileans  which  may  not  be  found,  under  some  form  or 
other,  in  some  of  those  very  religions  from  which  it 
pretends  to  disdain  borrowing." 

"  Except,"  said  Theon,  "  its  exaltation  of  all  which 
is  human  and  low-born,  illiterate  and  levelling." 

"  Except  that But  look  !  here  comes  some  one 

whom  I  cannot  —  do  not  choose  to  meet.  Turn  this 
way,  —  quick  !  " 

And  Hypatia,  turning  pale  as  death,  drew  her  father 
with  unphilosophic  haste  down  a  side  walk. 

"  Yes,"  she  went  on  to  herself,  as  soon  as  she  had 
recovered  her  equanimity.  "  Were  this  Galilean  super- 
stition content  to  take  its  place  humbly  among  the  other 
'religiones  licitas '  of  the  empire,  one  might  tolerate  it 
well  enough,  as  an  anthropomorphic  adumbration  of  di- 
vine things  fitted  for  the  base  and  toiling  herd  ;  perhaps 


300  HYPATIA. 

peculiarly  fitted,  because  peculiarly  flattering  to  them. 
But  now " 

"  There  is  Miriam  again,"  said  Philammon,  "  right 
before  us  !  " 

"  Miriam  ?  "  asked  Hypatia,  severely.  "  You  know 
her,  then  ?     How  is  that  ?  " 

"  She  lodges  at  Eudsemon's  house,  as  I  do,"  an- 
swered Philammon,  frankly.  "  Not  that  I  ever  inter- 
changed, or  wish  to  interchange,  a  word  with  so  base  a 
creature." 

"  Do  not !  I  charge  you !  "  said  Hypatia,  almost 
imploringly.  But  there  was  now  no  way  of  avoiding 
her,  and  perforce  Hypatia  and  her  tormentress  met  face 
to  face. 

"  One  word  !  one  moment,  beautiful  lady  !  "  began 
the  old  woman,  with  a  slavish  obeisance.  "  Nay,  do 
not  push  by  so  cruelly.  I  have  —  see  what  I  have  for 
you  !  "  and  she  held  out,  with  a  mysterious  air,  "  The 
Rainbow  of  Solomon." 

"  Ah  !  I  knew  you  would  stop  a  moment,  —  not  for 
the  ring's  sake,  of  course,  nor  even  for  the  sake  of  one 
who  once  offered  it  to  you.  Ah  !  and  where  is  he  now? 
Dead  of  love,  perhaps  !  At  least,  here  is  his  last  token 
to  the  fairest  one,  the  cruel  one.  .  .  .  Well,  perhaps  she 

is  right To  be  an  empress,  —  an  empress  !  .  .  .  . 

Far  finer  than  any  thing  the  poor  Jew  could  have  of- 
fered  But  still  ....  An   empress   need   not   be 

above  hearing  her  subjects'  petition."  .... 

All  this  was  uttered  rapidly,  and  in  a  wheedling  un- 
dertone, with  a  continual  snaky  writhing  of  her  whole 
body,  except  her  eye,  which  seemed,  in  the  intense 
fixity  of  its  glare  to  act  as  a  fulcrum  for  all  her  limbs  ; 


NEPHELOCOCCUGUIA.  301 

I 

and  from  that  eye,  as  long  as  it  kept  its  mysterious  hold, 
there  was  no  escaping. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  What  have  I  to  do  with  this 
ring?  "  asked  Hypatia,  half  frightened. 

"  He  who  owned  it  once,  offers  it  to  you  now.     You 

recollect  a  little  black  agate,  —  a  paltry  thing If 

you  have  not  thrown  it  away,  as  you  most  likely  have, 
he  wishes  to  redeem  it  with  this  opal  ....  a  gem  surely 
more  fit  for  such  a  hand  as  that." 

"  He  gave  me  the  agate,  and  I  shall  keep  it." 

"  But  this  opal,  —  worth',  O,  worth  ten  thousand  gold 
pieces,  —  in  exchange  for  that  paltry  broken  thing,  not 
worth  one  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  a  dealer,  like  you,  and  have  not  yet  learnt 
to  value  things  by  their  money  price.  If  that  agate 
had  been  worth  money,  I  would  never  have  accepted 
it." 

"  Take  the  ring,  take  it,  my  darling,"  whispered 
Theon,  impatiendy  ;  "  it  will  pay  all  our  debts." 

"Ah,  that  it  will,  —  pay  them  all,"  answered  the 
old  woman,  who  seemed  to  have  mysteriously  over- 
heard him. 

"  What  ?  —  my  father  !  Would  you,  too,  counsel 
me  to  be  so  mercenary  ?  My  good  woman,"  she  went 
on,  turning  to  Miriam,  "  I  cannot  expect  you  to  under- 
stand the  reason  of  my  refusal.  You  and  I  have  a  dif- 
ferent standard  of  worth.  But,  for  the  sake  of  the  tal- 
isman engraven  on  that  agate,  if  for  no  other  reason,  I 
cannot  give  it  up." 

"  Ah  !  for  the  sake  of  the  talisman  !  That  is  wise, 
now  !  That  is  noble  !  Like  a  philosopher  !  Oh,  I 
will  not  say  a  word  more.  Let  the  beautiful  prophetess 
keep  the  agate,  and  take  the  opal  too ;  for  see,  there  is 


302 


HYPATIA. 


a  charm  on  it  also !  The  name  by  which  Solomon 
compelled  the  demons  to  do  his  bidding.  Look ! 
Wliat  might  you  not  do  now,  if  you  knew  how  to  use 
that !  To  have  great  glorious  angels,  with  six  wings 
each,  bowing  at  your  feet  whensoever  you  called  them, 
and  saying,  '  Here  am  I,  mistress,  send  me.'  Only 
look  at  it !  " 

Hypatia  took  the  tempting  bait,  and  examined  it  with 
more  curiosity  than  she  would  have  wished  to  confess  ; 
while  the  old  woman  went  on  :  — 

"  But  the  wise  lady  knows  how  to  use  the  black 
agate,  of  course  ?  Aben-Ezra  told  her  that,  did  he 
not .?  " 

Hypatia  blushed  somewhat ;  she  was  ashamed  to 
confess  that  Aben-Ezra  had  not  revealed  the  secret  to 
her,  probably  not  believing  that  there  was  any,  and 
that  the  talisman  had  been  to  her  only  a  curious  play- 
thing, of  which  she  liked  to  believe  one  day  that  it  might 
possibly  have  some  occult  virtue,  and  the  next  day  to 
laugh  at  the  notion  as  unphilosophical  and  barbaric  ;  so 
she  answered,  rather  severely,  that  her  secrets  were  her 
own  property. 

"  Ah,  then  !  she  knows  it  all,  —  the  fortunate  lady  ! 
And  the  talisman  has  told  her  whether  Heraclian  has 
lost  or  won  Rome  by  this  time,  and  whether  she  is  to 
be  the  mother  of  a  new  dynasty  of  Ptolemies,  or  to  die 
a  virgin,  which  the  Four  Angels  avert !  And  surely 
she  has  had  the  great  Daemon  come  to  her  already, 
when  she  rubbed  the  flat  side,  has  she  not  ?  " 

"  Go,  foolish  woman  ;  I  am  not  like  you,  the  dupe  of 
childish  superstitions." 

"Childish  superstitions!  Ha!  ha!  ha!"  said  the 
old  woman,  as  she  turned  to  go,  with  obeisances  more 


NEPHELOCOCCUGUIA.      '  303 

lowly  than  ever.  "  And  she  has  not  seen  the  Angels 
yet !  .  .  .  .  Ah  well !  perhaps  some  day,  when  she 
wants  to  know  how  to  use  the  talisman,  the  beautiful 
lady  will  condescend  to  let  the  poor  old  Jewess  show 
her  the  way." 

And  Miriam  disappeared  down  an  alley,  and  plunged 
into  the  thickest  shrubberies,  while  the  three  dreamers 
went  on  their  way. 

Little  thought  Hypatia  that  the  moment  the  old  wo- 
man had  found  herself  alone,  she  had  dashed  herself 
down  on  the  turf,  rolling  and  biting  at   the  leaves,  like 

an  infuriated  wild  beast "I  will  have  it  yet !     I 

will  have  it,  if  I  tear  out  her  heart  with  it !  " 


END    OF    VOL.    I. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  AT  LOS  ANGELES 

THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below 


JAN  29  1937 
9  19bc 


^\^ 


NOV  1  1  ,34j 


Ktt'l^    'f' 


W.mi 


imir^ 


^  r9,1981 


r  '981 


^ 


^%^^ 


Dt 


P' 


.RJ^'DX&URl 


f).<i»Hl 


f^\  ...«  1%  1S|84' 


l|r\ 


k]M 


0 

V 


Porm  L-9-15W1  7,'35 


LIBRARY 


I 


s^ 


III  III!  III!  II  mill  III!  III!  II  III!  III! 


••";;,,, ,,1111111 1  nil  II  mill  mill. 

— mill  nil II  mill  mill.. 


*:^^ 
^-^^2. 
w^^ 


^.^ 


■0 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


AA    000  378  330    5 


y^^:V'>i':'y\(. .;-■'■./;,  I., 


s:v";s.'>^;V^:; 


I  ^ . 


'  \ 


■V/,:''.'':, ;  ,(>■> 


